


God, Nick and Ellis...

by Grimmy88



Category: Left 4 Dead 2, Nellis - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:00:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 80,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmy88/pseuds/Grimmy88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story arc written some time ago on deviant art. All ten parts together with smut in each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. God, Nick Loves Pool

            They had chosen the bar because Nick had commented on its extended structure, noting that there may be a restaurant inside where they could get sandwiches or something to enjoy with their beers.

            The moment they walked in however and approached the bar they learned that the restaurant was a new addition not yet open. The bartender was a pretty young girl who smiled at them apologetically. So Ellis smiled back and told her that since they’d asked they should get to try some of the food for free, just to test it.

            She had smiled again and offered them burgers for a price, but gave them both a free bottle of beer.

            When she turned to help another customer Ellis had looked to Nick and shrugged, knowing the elder man preferred steaks over burgers. The gambler had taken a sip of his beer, gave a glance around the place, and that had been it.

            Back in an adjacent, hidden corner of the bar, he somehow managed to spot several pool tables. And they lucked out—the one in the far corner was free.

            “You sure you know how to play?” Nick asked, rubbing the chalk cube over the tip of his cue stick.

            “A’course,” Ellis answered. He held his own cue against his shoulder. “Ya’ll act like I ain’t never been in a bar afore.”

            “Well, that’s just silly,” the gambler smirked. He set his cue aside so he could gather the colorful balls together in the rack, finishing with the eight ball. “Of course you’ve been in bars before, you can tell by that little pouch you’re getting.”

            The hick smiled at him but as soon as his lover looked away he dropped his hands down. Smoothing his hands over his t-shirt, he pulled the material back so it was taught over his stomach.

            “I was joking!” Nick laughed.

            “I know,” the mechanic snapped and put his grip back onto his cue. “I was juss showin’ ya.”

            “Uh huh… Want me to break?”

            “Nah, I will,” Ellis said quickly. He took the cue ball and placed it amid the just-barely fuzzed wool of the table. And then he leant low behind it, one arm cocked back and the other resting on the table. His tongue was pressed firmly to the corner of his low lip, like it usually was when the hick needed to concentrate. Though he never noticed and only knew because of what his friends told him.

            He drew the tip back a few times, anticipating how good of a shot he was going to make. Truth be told, he’d only played pool a couple of times because mostly in bars he and his friends had played drunken games of darts instead. More often than not, though, they just bought cases of beer and took it somewhere else.

            But, still, with his muscles he didn’t expect the game to be that hard.

            So he thrust the cue forward—and missed the ball. Sheepish, though determined, Ellis didn’t look up. He tried again. And this time he at least managed to graze the side of the white orb. It moved an inch to the left in response.

            And then he looked up from under his hat.

            “I knew it,” the conman sighed. He stepped around the table.

            “I’m pretty good at darts,” Ellis supplied, shoulders up in a shrug.

            “I don’t want to play darts. I want to play pool.”

            The hick tried to move out of Nick’s way but paused when a ringed hand settled on his shoulder. He let it direct him back to the table.

            “It’s not hard once you play for a while.” Ellis felt the touch slide off his shoulder and down his arm. And then his older lover bent over with his cue, waited barely a moment and then with a quick, controlled jerk of his arm sent the balls scattering in several directions. It seemed like they were running away from the gambler, well, to Ellis anyway. He smiled faintly at the ones that hid by dropping into the holes.

            Nick retrieved them from their sanctuaries immediately.

            “What’re ya doin’?” Ellis questioned. He put his palm atop his head and shifted the material of his hat.

            “We’re not playing until you learn how,” the northerner replied. “Come here.”

            The boy did as he was told, moving to his lover’s side.

            “Watch me.” Nick bent low again and Ellis watched him step his leg out and how it cocked his hips and how he twisted his body to the left… The balls cracked together. “See how my hand is? See how I’m holding the cue?”

            The redneck’s face burned. He shook his head and twisted his fingers around the stick in his hands.

            “Well, what _were_ you looking at?” Nick’s face was pursed as it always was when he was annoyed.

            “Do I gotta stand like that?” Ellis asked, avoiding the question.

            “Stand however you need to so you don’t smack your body with the cue when you go to hit the ball.”

            “Oh.”

            “Watch my _hands_ this time.” Nick bent low and slowed his motions so Ellis could see the way he settled the stick atop his hand with his forefinger curled around it, just barely. He started sliding it back and forth slowly. “Watching me?”

            The redneck nodded, immediately. “Yeah.”

            “Past that it’s all about hitting the cue ball with the right amount of power and—…” his stick and arm flicked forward fluidly, sending the white ball into the side of a purple one which rolled further into a side pocket, “—knowing what angle to go for.”

            Nick stood and rounded the table. Then he beckoned his student with his fingers. When Ellis approached he let the older man guide him to position the cue and himself over the table.

            “Now, the angle thing is something you have to practice. Hitting it with the right amount of strength…” the older man had moved behind him and his hip brushed against Ellis’ ass as he reached out to take the tattooed arm and move it back and forth quickly, “…is tricky and something that takes _years_.”

            “Why the hell d’ya play it, then?” Ellis asked eyes on the cue and mind on Nick.

            Strong hands moved to his flanks then and Ellis went to stand but stopped when Nick’s body prevented it. Besides that, he didn’t feel like attracting the attention of all the other bar-goers and especially not the other pool players around them.

            He wasn’t embarrassed, though. Sure, the first time Nick had touched him in public like that’d he’d given him an instinctive right hook to the cheek. And the older man hadn’t touched him again—public or private—for two whole weeks.

            It wasn’t even that he didn’t want to be touched; he’d just grown up in a particular area. Just because he was taught to be polite and to mind his own business didn’t mean other southerners were. And Nick’s decision to display their ‘affection’ had been in a throng of his peers in the backyard of his mama’s house.

            Ellis hadn’t told her before then—and he especially hadn’t told his grandpa who had also ceased speaking to him after the incident. If his mama hadn’t calmed the elderly man and Ellis hadn’t begged Nick for forgiveness (or rather redeemed himself through backrubs and foot massages) he’d probably had lost them both.

            When Nick touched him again, a simple hand to the small of his back, he hadn’t pulled away.

            Besides, it wasn’t like Nick was actually affectionate in any sense of the word (especially after the punch). Those small touches were usually it for the hick.

            “If you learn to play that well,” his voice had lowered, “imagine how many people you could con.”

            “Could I win enough to go to Disneyland?” He grinned and turned his head so he could look up.

            Nick obliged the boy with a roll of his eyes, no longer letting himself get roused by the boy’s naivety. After three years Nick even smiled at it sometimes.

            “Gotta learn first,” his lover murmured. He leaned back and guided the younger man’s arms a few more times before withdrawing. “Try.”

            Ellis shoved his arm forward, cracking the tip of the cue against the bottom of the ball with the full force of his arm. And it jumped.

            Both men visibly winced as it smacked off the spine of a very large pool player the next table over. Ellis was upright the next instant, knocking Nick back and straight as well.

            The man turned and leveled them with a heavy brow over dark eyes.

            Ellis pointed to his companion.

            The victim bent low to retrieve the ball and then set it back down on their table with a large and veined hand. It looked like he was hosting blue, squealing worms.

            “Lose something?” His voice was tense and low. But not tense or low like Nick’s could get. Tense and low like bullies get.

            “Sorry,” Nick chimed, nonchalant and careless, almost kind. “I’m trying to teach my friend how to play.”

            “Shitty teacher, aren’t you?”

            Nick just smiled tightly at him as the large man—more like a huge walking muscle—moved towards them. Ellis frowned when his cue was pulled of his grasp by the stronger hands.

            “Well, I haven’t played in a while,” Nick lied.

            The hick knew better than to look at his partner. Ever since they’d begun traveling north—Nick had wanted to show him places like Chicago and then westwards towards Las Vegas (well, Ellis had whined until Nick agreed, anyway)—they’d stopped at plenty of hotels with pool tables. Ellis woke several times alone only to find his teammate in the billiards room when everyone else was asleep.

            This one time they had stopped in a bar and while Ellis had opted to stay and play darts with some barely twenty-one year old girls Nick had almost teleported to the green tables in the corner, practically hidden by the smoky haze of air the people who played exhaled.

            It was the first time he’d seen Nick smile at a stranger. It was also about the tenth time he’d come back with a giant wad of money in his pocket.

            The time after that the mechanic had been there to watch after growing bored and lonely at the bar. When Nick had lied about his love of the game Ellis had called him on it. Unfortunately he’d done it right after his teammate’s victory but before the money had been handed over. Instead Nick’s target and his friends had handed over their fists.

            “That so?” The man chalked ‘his’ cue.

            “Look,” Nick said, voice sounding worried and fake. “We’re just trying to play.”

            “Well, teacher, your boyfriend can watch and learn. And we’ll make this interesting.” Obviously fake only to Ellis.

            He stepped back against the wall, taking up the bottle of beer he had left on the floor to play and took a sip out of it instead of smiling.

            “Interesting how?”

            “Three grand,” the man said. “Looks like you can afford that.”

            Nick didn’t smirk; he just glanced down at the table pensively. He was almost too good at what he did.

            After a while he nodded.

            With the balls racked and cue ready Nick glanced up. “You want to break?”

            The man didn’t reply, he just shot his ball and sent the others spiraling across the table. A stripe pocketed. So Nick stepped around the table and took aim. He hit another stripe but it tapered into the cushion of the railing and stopped.

            Muscle smiled and Ellis wondered if he could’ve thought of a better name. He crossed the table, forcing Nick to step aside, and shot, sinking another striped ball. And so he continued.

            The gambler watched silently, patiently. From where he stood Ellis almost bought the façade. When Nick went to shoot he did it with a jitter in his fingers and a nervousness about his shoulders. When he stood back he’d transfer the false emotion onto his face.

            He was glad he’d been able to see the real Nick from the beginning. It was one thing he’d always be thankful to the apocalypse for, no matter how many other scars it had left.

            When Muscle missed he stood and scratched his carefully sculpted beard. “You know, we should make this even more interesting and raise it to five.”

            “Like I’m gonna agree to that with the game going like this?”

            Muscle shrugged. “You put more money on the line and you’ll play harder.”

            “I don’t know, “Nick replied, slowly. “Might play harder for a nice car.” He laughed. “We drive a piece of shit right now, right?” He glanced at the hick.

            Ellis frowned. “That’s my truck yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

            Nick’s eyes flashed darkly and the redneck clenched his jaw.

            The look was gone in an instant. “He’s a mechanic but we’ve been driving it around forever, and trucks and cars can only take so much.”

            Muscle regarded Ellis who had lowered his head again for a moment.

            “Then I’ll bet you my bike and you bet the truck.”

            “She may be dyin’ but she’s worth more than some stupid bike,” Ellis growled as he crossed his arms.

            “You had to have passed my bike; it’s the 2005 silver Harley sitting out there.”

            “That’s yours?” the redneck asked quietly. “…Still my truck’s got memories, man…”

            “The bike and the three grand, then.”

            “Deal,” Nick said immediately.

            “Nick!” Ellis cried, not caring how good of a billiard player he was or that the Harley was beautiful. That truck was his baby. They’d gone back through quarantined zones and the aftershocks of the apocalypse for it and it had taken him far too long to fix her back up to her former glory.

            “Win-win for me,” his lover continued. “If I lose I can finally get a good car.”

            “Yer gonna lose my truck!” Ellis wailed. He put his face in his hands.

            “I’ll make it up to you,” Nick said.

            “Your turn,” Muscle reminded Nick.

            When the hillbilly looked back up the northerner was staring at him, as if waiting. When he had procured the younger man’s gaze he leaned down over the table.

            And just like that all his false nervousness and hesitance were gone. His fingers were steady and firm and his face set and determined. Ellis wondered if all the green eyes saw were the table.

            He sank his first shot, and his second, and then his third. He stood then and crossed to Ellis, taking his beer and then a sip of it before returning to the table. He sank his next shots, calling their pockets in advance.

            And Muscle’s mouth was wide open. Ellis figured if he had a dart he could’ve gotten a bulls-eye in his throat.

            Nick circled the table a final time, eyeing the eight ball. He stopped a corner and glanced across the opposite one. Ellis stood behind it.

            Nick smirked and leaned down.

            The hick’s blue eyes dropped. Nick still left his top buttons undone, after all those years, to where his chest hair began. Ellis let his eyes travel over the curve of his pectorals underneath, the older man’s position obstructing his gaze from going further.

            Not that he didn’t like looking at the older man’s chest; if they weren’t traveling and bar-hopping the two men were usually working out. They’d been too close to death to ever overlook the importance of physical strength ever again. And it had more than just that benefit, anyway.

            Ellis felt his lips part and cheeks pull in a grin.

            He’d bought… well, he’d picked out a new shirt for Nick’s birthday, considering the majority of their money came from the conman because only once in a rare while could the mechanic actually convince someone to let him fix their car for them. He’d picked a dark red dress shirt to go under the black suit the gambler had chosen. And he certainly wasn’t regretting it. Nick looked good in suits and dress shirts.

            He looked even better when they were dark suits and dark dress shirts.

            And with his hunched position over the table—shoulders poised, arms pliant yet still, hips cocked, and stance set—combined with that goddamned _smirk_. The same smirk Ellis saw every time the older man hovered over him at night just like—

            “Eight ball; corner pocket,” Nick announced. It was a simple shot and so it was simply made.

            Ellis turned his side to the wall as it sank, wishing he still had his jumpsuit instead of jeans.

            “You fucking liar,” Muscle growled suddenly. He flung the cue in his hands away and it clanked off the wall behind the redneck’s back.

            “And?” Nick leant one hand on the wooden edge of the table.

            “You’re not getting shit from me.”

            “A bet’s a bet,” the conman asserted. “You didn’t mind ripping off innocent guys just like I don’t mind ripping off idiots. Money and keys.” He waited and then smiled. “Please.”

            Muscle shook his head, fists trembling and walked away.

            “Hey!” Ellis stepped after him, pride stinging. Nobody else had ever walked away from Nick and one guy had lost twenty-five thousand! Plus, he was still reeling from his fear over losing his truck. “You bet!”

            Nick put his hand on the hick’s furthest shoulder so that he could drape his arm across his chest. “Relax. It’s fine.”

            Ellis huffed and fixed his hat, glaring in the direction of Muscle’s table within the bar area. When Nick pulled on his sleeve he stopped and followed obediently. He trailed behind him towards the bathrooms. When they were out of sight of the other patrons and the bartender had turned her head, Nick ducked to the right and opened the door they had been shown earlier, the one that led to the unfinished restaurant.

            It was dark inside but the light from streetlamps outside was enough. There were several tables and chairs and booths, all covered by white sheets.

            “What’re we doin’?” Ellis asked, moving away from the door with Nick.

            “Making it up to you,” the older man replied, shoving his partner down into one of the booths.

            The hick bounced once and then grinned before he hurriedly tried to put his lips back over his teeth. “Good, ‘cause ya’ll shouldn’ta bet my truck… er said them lies ‘bout her!”

            Nick rolled his eyes and kneeled. And then his eyebrow lifted as his gaze lowered. “Expecting something?”

            Ellis’ face burned but he spread his legs father, seeing as how it would be stupid to hide since his lover had already seen it. “I juss been thinkin’ I have good tastes in dress shirts. Maybe we should getchya another.”

            The conman smiled, obviously pleased. “No, next we’re getting _you_ a suit.” He smoothed his hands up the jeaned thighs slowly.

            The hick let his head rest back against the booth and listened to the sound of his zipper opening. He let out a long, excited breath. “I don’t look good like you do in suits.”

            “Nobody does,” Nick agreed.

            Ellis laughed and reached his hand down to cover the one his lover had left on his thigh. He pressed his fingers in as Nick carefully withdrew his length from both his boxers and his jeans. After a few firm tugs a warm mouth closed over the tip.

            The younger man arched his back, his other hand reaching out for anything. It found the edge of the table and he gripped at it, even though it was a bad position and it hurt his wrist to do it.

            When the moistness spread to the entirety of his cock Ellis bucked. Nick took it in stride before bringing his hands down to hold the young hips beneath him down. The southerner leaned up then onto his elbows and peered down at his lover, eyes half-mast.

            Nick’s cheeks had hollowed and his eyes had shut. Ellis reached down to touch his hair but as soon as his fingers touched the other man’s head his touch was wrenched away and then the mouth on his cock disappeared.

            “We’ve got to go back out there, idiot. No messing with my hair.”

            “Nick,” Ellis almost whined.

            “Wait until we’re back at the hotel,” Nick smirked and then lowered his head again.

            The younger man nodded even though his lover had stopped looking at him by then. He put his hand atop Nick’s again, instead, needing to feel some part of the man other than his mouth.

            He wasn’t usually on the receiving end of a blow-job, not that the gambler would never do it for him, it was just rare. Whenever it did happen, though, Ellis never lasted long.

            So even though they were in the soon-to-be restaurant addition of some random bar where anybody could walk in he just spread his legs further and watched his cock slip between his partner’s lips.

            Nick’s head moved up and down slowly. When the hips below him began to roll and buck up just barely he readjusted his motion to match the boy’s.

            Ellis groaned aloud, the sight of his hips and cock rolling up into Nick’s face—the thought of having that control almost too much to handle. He slid back down onto the cushioned seat and closed his eyes.

            When the mouth on him released with a wet, slurping suck he opened his eyes and stared up at the dark ceiling.

            Nick’s breath ghosted over his erect flesh. “Come here.”

            Ellis obeyed, sitting up. He scooted to the end of the booth with the help of Nick’s grip pulling his legs along. When their chests met the hick ducked down his face so their mouths could too.

            And then he dropped his hand down to jerk at his own erection rapidly.

            The older man’s tongue slipped into his mouth and he welcomed it excitedly and eagerly, his own tongue meeting the rolling, sliding thrusts with its own swirling motion.

            Ellis threw his other arm around Nick’s shoulders and pulled him closer, breathing hard into his mouth and rubbing equally hard against him, wishing they were in their hotel room so he could take off his clothes.

            The movement of Nick’s chest became uneven then, and his hands moved from Ellis’ legs to his hips and then his sides, and then his back and then back down to his ass to grip the flesh there hard.

            The redneck tugged the older man atop him then, letting his back press against the cushion again. He spread his legs and the moment Nick settled between them he wrapped them around and locked them in place by hooking his ankles together. And then he started to rub up against his lover.

            “Easy, easy,” Nick whispered, but his eyes were closed and his cock was hard.

            “Nick,” Ellis whispered back, moving his hands to grip the biceps above him even as the gambler tried to steady himself. He rolled his hips again.

            Nick leaned low and crushed his mouth to the boy’s, teeth finding the hick’s thick bottom lip roughly before soothing over it with the tip of his tongue.

            In response the mechanic trailed his hands up to the older man’s shoulders and then down across the dress shirt and then further, to the dangling coat. He reached into the inner pocket, rummaged around, and then withdrew from both the jacket and Nick’s mouth to lay back.

            He lifted the small bottle of lube to his elder lover’s face.

            After a moment of heavy breathing Nick took it. “Don’t bother me for it later, then.”

            “I’mma bother you at least five more times,” Ellis replied breathlessly.

            “Get up,” Nick ordered. He stood back and readjusted himself through his pants, watching the hick rise. He turned the smaller man to the table and pressed up against his back.

            Ellis turned his head to the side, exposing his neck, sighing gratefully when the conman took advantage and began to ravish it with bites and sucks. Slowly they leant forward together and the hick put his forearms on the table, resting his weight on them when Nick’s body heat left his.

            When his jeans began to tug down over his hips he repositioned his stance and bowed his head, ashamed and fearful and excited.

            The lube bottle squirted behind him and then he listened as it glistened and squelched over flesh and then closed his eyes as he felt it spread and slick over his opening. And then Nick’s fingers pushed in.

            Ellis supposed he’d never get used to it. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a weird kind of pleasure whenever he had fingers or a cock in him. But the weirdness always left after the initial touch, after Nick’s breaths escalated.

            He groaned when the northerner pushed into him, waiting for his body to ease as it always did, waiting for Nick to go in completely, like he always did.

            His fingers were almost as white as the sheet beneath them as Ellis leant all his weight and the force of Nick’s thrusts upon them. When the joints in them began to pang he dropped down, letting his chest press against the table and his cheek plump against it.

            The new position and angle of his back and ass caused the gambler to pause for a moment, gather a shaky breath, and then start up again with a harder rhythm. The table rocked underneath them and Ellis grunted when it started to creak.

            When he felt his shirt lift, leaving his bare back open and when he listened closely and heard the slick movement of Nick’s dick in and out of his opening and the loud smacks of their skin smacking together he tensed and lifted his torso.

            Nick’s hand beat him to his cock and with a few firm tugs the redneck was groaning and gasping and spilling his seed, eyes long since shut.

            The moment the hand moved away he slumped, face relaxed in the afterglow of his pleasure. Behind him the older man’s thrusting continued, lacing almost painful pleasure through the already spent redneck.

            When the thrusts shortened Ellis knew he was close. He reached back blindly, putting his hands on Nick’s, forcing the man’s fingers to grip his skin hard enough to bruise because he knew that’s what he liked to do and even though it hurt and the bruises would remain he’d be rewarded for it later.

            Nick came with a soft grunt and a deep thrust as he preferred to be buried within his young lover when he did so.

            After a few moments his fingers softened again and smoothed the reddened, young skin beneath them.

            “I came on the table,” Ellis mumbled.

            The northerner laughed, gently and placed a kiss on his clothed shoulder blade. “As long as it wasn’t my suit.” He pulled from the younger man and after a minute or so Ellis heard his zipper and then the jingle of his belt buckle as he resituated himself. “Come on.”

            The hick grunted and rolled over onto his back. “Don’t look.”

            Nick sighed and turned his back to the other. “You know I see it every night, right?”

            Ellis didn’t respond, he simply took the edge of the sheet atop the table, seeing as how it was dirty anyways, and cleaned himself up. Then he too pulled his pants back up.

            When they slipped back into the bar the bartender had her back turned. When they reached the pool table they had been playing at however, Muscle’s eyes were on them as he settled back down at his seat.

            “Think we’re gonna get beat up again?” Ellis asked, tugging the brim of his hat down to cover his red, heated face.

            “Why?” Nick asked, similarly adjusting his suit jacket. “I didn’t make him pay.”

            “I mean after I take them bike keys from that rack over there,” the hick smirked, nodding his head towards the entrance of the bar where several keys hung but only one pair glinted as they rocked back and forth just slightly. And only one of the men had been standing. “I guess ol’ veiny-muscles comes here a lot.”

            The conman settled the collar of his jacket down as a grin broke over his face. He stepped closer to his lover. “If I wasn’t so afraid of getting punched I’d kiss you, you little thief.”

            “Whose fault is that?” Ellis grinned back. “An’ I ain’t gonna punch you.”

            “I didn’t mean you,” Nick murmured but turned his head to kiss the hick anyway. When they pulled away he cast a glare at Muscle’s table but Ellis didn’t know why. When he looked at them he figured they must have made some sort of sound, but since he didn’t hear it he didn’t care.

            He followed his lover as he walked through the bar tables. After waving to the bartender they cast their eyes upon the table where Nick’s rival sat. Muscle didn’t raise his eyes to meet theirs, however, but he watched their bodies pass by, too shameful and angry to do more than that.

            Ellis dug his hand into his pockets and withdrew his keys. He pressed them into the gambler’s palm. “Don’t crash her.”

            Nick lifted an eyebrow. “Kid, no. I thought you were kidding. That’s sui--…”

            The hick snatched the shining keys, grabbed a hold of Nick’s sleeve and charged out of the bar, whooping as loud as he could.

            The older man tripped once on their way to the bike but righted himself before the larger men even got out of the bar. Ellis grinned and let him go, hopping atop the bike. It started it up with a loud roar. “Ah, damn, Nick. I love it!”

            Nick sighed but when the bar door crashed open and then shut far behind them he started, ripped the redneck’s hat from his head, and ran for Ellis’ truck.

            Ellis peeled out of the stone parking lot and onto the road, laughing all the while.


	2. God, Nick Loves Suits

            Ellis let out what was his third sigh in less than six minutes. Nick gave him a glare from over his shoulder but his hands continued to flip deftly through the hanging suits before him. The hangers clinked together quickly, one of the only louder sounds in the store. The other sounds, the voices of other people, were barely audible to the duo’s ears.

            “Would you get that look off your face?” Nick asked suddenly, voice biting.

            “What look?”

            “The look a five year old gets when he doesn’t want to do something.”

            The redneck bowed his head and took a swig out of the water bottle he had brought with him instead of responding.

            “You know, I’m trying to do something nice for you.”

            “I know,” Ellis murmured. “I juss hate shoppin’.”

            “If you’d just pick something we could’ve been gone already.”

            The hick sighed, huffed, and then moved to his lover’s side. His eyes fell down onto the selections. He pointed. “What ‘bout that one?”

            Nick pursed his lips. “No.”

            “This one.”

            “No.”

            Ellis groaned and threw his hands up in defeat. “I hate shoppin’!”

            The gambler ignored his lover’s outburst and moved elsewhere, hands in his pockets. The boy stood, defiant a moment and then grudgingly followed, shoulders slumped and face dejected.

            Nick paused before another rack and flicked between the suits there, face unchanging as he regarded each in turn. He stopped for a moment, flicked his tongue over his bottom lip in thought, and then drew one out. He held it up and then pushed it at the mechanic who took it obediently.

            “What color tie?”

            “Why I gotta get a tie? You don’t wear a tie.”

            “What color?”

            “Blue?”

            Ellis followed the older man, glancing around at the other people in the store. The majority was men, alone and scouring through the suits in silence, but the people who caught his eyes were, he assumed, a married couple. The wife, a pretty and plump woman, led her husband with talk and wide hips. He followed behind and looked as miserable as Ellis felt.

            The southerner had only worn a suit a few times in his life and most of those had been for religious reasons. The moment he could take them off, he did. Or he’d somehow already ruined them by then…

            He didn’t understand wearing one every day, or even often. It didn’t really make sense to him and it seemed fairly excessive, especially now after the apocalypse when nobody really gave two shits about what they looked like anymore.

            Except Nick.

            Nick looked good in suits. He looked like he belonged in suits. There was nothing excessive about it… Or maybe there was, but Ellis didn’t care because he’d always seen the older man in suits and so it was just plain normal for him.

            The only other person who seemed right in a suit was James Bond… And maybe it was because besides the fictional action hero and Nick, the redneck had never seen anybody wearing a suit kick so much ass before.

            Not that Nick wore them all the time, mainly, Ellis guessed, because he couldn’t considering how they were always on the move. The first time the hick had seen his lover in something other than a suit he’d been drinking a coke. As soon as Nick had set foot in the same room as him Ellis’ drink had joined them on the floor.

            Because Nick in jeans and a white t-shirt was just as sexy as him in his unbuttoned dress shirt.

            When the soft material of a silk tie tapped against his fingers Ellis gripped at it. And he did the same thing a moment later when Nick shoved a dress shirt against his chest. He looked down at the ensemble and then up at the other man through his lashes.

            Nick opened his mouth, probably to reprimand the younger man, but was stopped by the store clerk. It wasn’t a big store and Ellis figured he’d been watching them from the moment they had first stepped foot into the place. When he looked up he realized that the clerk’s brown eyes were on him and not his companion.

            Not that the redneck could blame him, he definitely didn’t look like he belonged in a fancy store like the one they were standing in.

            “Can I help you with something?”

            Ellis looked to Nick expectantly. So did the clerk.

            “Yeah,” the conman said, not looking up from the rack in front of him. “He needs to try that on.”

            “The dressing rooms are this way,” the clerk answered and lead the way. Ellis cast a glance to Nick who didn’t return it so he followed the clerk, gripping hard on the clothes in his hands.

            The clerk was older, probably mid to late fifties, Ellis figured. He was skinny and pale as if his entire life had been spent in the store. His hair was dark and thinned with a poor excuse for a comb-over trying to cover the fact. But most of all the hick couldn’t stop staring at his mustache, thin and spaced to leave the indent above his top left bare.

            Ellis really hoped Nick would never want to grow a full-out mustache because as good as the northerner looked with stubble he did NOT want such prominent hair against his mouth when he went to kiss his lover or anywhere else when said lover was actually feeling generous.

            The clerk led him behind a small curtain towards the back of the store. Three dressing room stalls were lined against the wall, all open and empty. At the end of the room three mirrors stood, next to each other and slightly tilted so that a person could see themselves at most any angle they pleased.

            Ellis walked down to the dressing room closest to the three mirrors.

            “If you need any help, just let me know,” the clerk said, though the mechanic could tell he only said it because he had to, not because he actually wanted to help. Not that he could blame the man, who would want to help some random guy put on a suit?

            And why would he need help?

            “Thanks, sir,” Ellis said before the elder man was out of earshot. He went into the changing stall and closed the door behind him before pushing the lock into place.

            There were two hooks on the walls, one on each side of him. He hung the suit itself on one and then the shirt and the tie on the other. And then he looked into the small mirror in front of him, wondering why they had it in there if he was supposed to use the other three outside.

            He kicked off his boots and pushed them aside with his foot before leaning forward to deposit his water bottle on the small bench besides the mirror. He slid his jeans down and laid them next to his drink followed by his t-shirt upon which he neatly laid his hat.

            And then he stood and glanced into the mirror. Before the apocalypse he had never been one to look at himself for too long in the mirror. There’d been no reason. Even now he supposed there wasn’t one because whenever he looked all he saw were the scars he had gained from their ordeal, darkened and marred flesh. But since they had gained their freedom he found himself looking more anyway. And where he used to just flex an arm and move on (though of course he still flexed) now he stood there and stared and wondered.

            Because sometimes Nick just stared and he wondered what the gambler wondered while doing it.

            Because he knew what he wondered and he knew he didn’t care how many scars Nick had—in fact they were kinda cool—because those scars had been gained from trying to survive or trying to help his friends. So he figured Nick must’ve thought the same about him.

            Or maybe he didn’t see the scars at all.

            Ellis flexed his arm, smirking at his bicep before reaching for the dress shirt and placing it around his shoulders. He slowly buttoned it up, tongue on his top lip as he concentrated, making sure they matched up evenly.

            He reached for the tie and wrapped it about his neck, making sure it stayed underneath the collar of his shirt. And then he stopped. He looked up in the mirror and stared at the two uneven lengths in his hand and blinked.

            He’d never tied his own tie before.

            He stared at his reflection dumbly. His mother had done it, his grandfather had done it, hell, even Dave had done it once, but he himself had never done it for himself. Hell, he couldn’t even remember _watching_ them do it so he could learn.

            Ellis cussed inwardly and glanced over his shoulder at the door. He didn’t want to call for help, especially not from the clerk. As much as he liked giving help one of his least favorite things was asking for it, especially when it concerned something that should’ve been so easy.

            And if he asked Nick for help… he already knew he’d never hear the end of it.

            But, seeing as Nick was going to come looking for him sooner or later and would probably recognize the boy’s issue with the tie right off he opened the stall door and then peeked out. The curtain was blocking the way to the rest of the store.

            “Nick!” he hissed, praying his partner was nearby. After a moment he tried again, a little louder.

            The curtain was drawn to the side then and the northerner walked through before drawing it back. “What?”

            Ellis chewed the inside of his chest and stepped out from his stall. “…Can ya’ll tie this?” He pointed at the silk fabric around his neck.

            Nick blanched. “…You’re shitting me, right?”

            The boy shook his head, face heating.

            “Ellis. No. You have to be kidding.”

            “My mama and grandpa usedta do it, shut up! I told you I ain’t usedta wearin’ ‘em!” Angry, he brought his hands to the buttons, ready to leave.

            “Alright, alright,” Nick sighed and stopped his hands. He moved close to the redneck and within a second or so knotted the tie firmly around the southerner’s neck. “Quick question, though.”

            “What?” Ellis said, forehead creased in annoyance because he missed how to tie the knot yet again.

            “Why in the hell didn’t you put your pants on?”

            The hick glanced down and grinned. He looked back up at his lover and scratched his head. “Well… I figured I’d get the hard part outta the way first.”

            “You’re an idiot.” Nick turned away and walked back to the curtain. “Get dressed already.”

            Ellis returned to the stall again and slid the lock back. He cast a glance at himself in the mirror and sighed. He looked like he was going to church for Easter Sunday. He sighed and took the suit off the hanger, quickly pulling the pants over his boxers before fastening the belt that came with them tightly. He then slipped the jacket over his arms and looked in the mirror yet again.

            He _really_ looked like he was going to church.

            The suit itself was nice, he had to admit, which is probably why he associated it with doing something equally as nice. It wasn’t exactly black but it wasn’t exactly gray either, and Ellis was content at leaving it at that.

            It was better than any of his other suits anyway because none of the others had cool, thin stripes lining it like this one did. Though, the redneck didn’t know if he was supposed to call them stripes.

            But, still, he didn’t look like he belonged in it. And he sure as hell didn’t look as good as Nick. He frowned at himself and buttoned it up so that just his tie was visible. It helped a little.

            Defeated, he glanced around the small stall, wondering why he had even agreed in the first place. And then his eyes fell on his water bottle. And then he grinned.

            He took the bottle up and turned back to his reflection. There was a reason he still looked like some school boy going to graduation. And there was a reason that Nick didn’t.

            Well, besides the differences between their ages.

            He unscrewed the cap and poured some of the water into his hand. Before it could escape he clapped his hand up into his hair and began to slick back the curls. After a few handfuls his hair was slick, wet, and shining.

            Nick looked good because he made sure everything, not just the suit, complimented him. And with his hair slicked back, Ellis was a little more satisfied with actually showing the older man.

            He pulled the lock back and poked his head out of the stall. Nick hadn’t come back yet.

            Ellis stepped out anyway, ignoring the fact that he didn’t even have dress shoes and made his way, socks only, to the three mirrors. He pressed his hair down again, even though it probably wasn’t going to move until it dried anyway.

            He turned a little so he could make sure the jacket was on right and not sticking into his belt or anything.

            The curtain moved behind him and drew his eyes up away from his other self. Quickly, he smoothed his hands down over the jacket and looked back down, trying to pretend he wasn’t looking.

            Nick walked in, eyes downwards on another suit in his hands. He made it to the second stall before he glanced up and stopped.

            And then he dropped the new suit.

            Ellis smiled at him through the mirror and then slowly turned so he could glance sideways at him. The northern walked to him, stepping over and onto the suit beneath him until he was close.

            “S’okay?” Ellis asked.

            “…What’d you do to your hair?”

            “Used my water bottle. Y’see afore I juss looked like I was goin’ta church er a wedding er somethin’ stupid… An’ I thought, ‘well, shit, why does Nick look so good?’ An’ thass when I realized it’s ‘cause-a yer hair.”

            Nick didn’t respond, but his eyes scanned the boy up and down slowly and repeatedly and thoroughly.

            Ellis turned to face him. “Nick?”

            The hick gasped out in surprise when the older man’s hand snapped out, gripped his tie, and pulled. He fell against his lover and sucked in the breath he had lost before hot lips crushed down onto his own.

            He responded eagerly at first, considering they hadn’t had sex in two days because the past two nights they had arrived at hotels far too late to do anything than fall into deep, dark sleep. But when Nick’s hands dropped to his hips he leaned back, suddenly remembering where they were.

            Nick leaned forward, following after him and Ellis grinned. “It’s okay, then?”

            His lover rolled his eyes and took him by the tie again. He glanced behind them and then yanked at the material, pulling the smaller man into the changing stall behind them. Once inside he reversed their places, pushing Ellis back against the mirror while he locked the door behind them.

            They were back together then, Nick’s hands and lips searching and warm and eager. Ellis wound his arms up and around the northerner’s shoulders, pressing his fingers and palms to the top of the warm back underneath them.

            When a hot, pressing tongue traced over his lips he opened them submissively and let his lover steal his breath and thoughts and doubts as it swiped inside.

            Their mouths parted and Ellis panted hard and opened his eyes, though he didn’t remember when they had slammed shut, but since it was an often occurrence he didn’t dwell too long on the thought for an answer. Instead he looked down to where Nick’s fingers worked at the buttons of his striped-suit.

            The older man finished and lifted his head back up to press another chaste kiss to the plump lips before him. Then his fingers worked at the black belt about Ellis’ waist.

            “I think I know why ya wanted me-ta wear a tie,” the mechanic whispered, wincing, though not in pain, as his belt was jerked from its loops. It smacked down against the floor near their feet.

            “Oh, yeah?” Nick’s eyebrow lifted but he didn’t look up. He had divested the boy of said tie and was now working at the dress shirt.

            “Yeah. Ya’ll just wanted ta drag me around.”

            “Hm. I had all this planned, huh?”

            “You gonna tell me ya didn’t?”

            Nick didn’t reply, he just pulled the dress shirt open and smoothed his hands down his young lover’s chest, making sure not to knock the fabric off his shoulders. When Ellis drew in a breath he slowly lowered, pressing his mouth against the smooth, warm skin and then down over the line of the boy’s taught muscles until he was forced to kneel.

            The zipper of Ellis’ suit pants sounded loudly in the small stall and throughout the rest of the changing room. The hick looked up and waited, knowing the sound probably wouldn’t draw any attention but wanting to be sure.

            Nick didn’t stop, however. His hands slipped inside the pants and then the top of the boxers so that he could draw them down. They went smoothly and quickly, pooling around Ellis’ ankles. Ellis leant back against the mirror heavily, breathing hard and holding his hips forward, his erection already grown and now pressing against the bottom of his abdomen.

            Warm fingers enclosed around the base of his cock before the tip was enveloped in wet heat. Ellis opened his mouth to groan.

            And then there was a knock on the stall.

            The hick slapped his hands up to his mouth, stifling the sound because even though the sound had effectively jolted him it hadn’t stopped his lover’s actions.

            A tongue slid over his head and into the slit and Ellis slammed one of his hands down into Nick’s hair, not caring that he was messing it, only caring that someone was outside of their stall and he needed something to grip because he needed Nick to stop, because he was ashamed, and because for some reason he was still so very hard.

            The knock sounded again but the clerk’s voice followed it this time. “Sir? Are you alright in there?”

            Ellis choked on his words in reply as Nick’s fingers tightened on the shaft of his cock so he could pull and jerk the skin there up and down.

            The hick swallowed and tried again. “I’m… I’m awright! I juss… I juss got another suit.”

            “There was one out here on the floor,” the clerk said. “Was this yours?”

            Ellis shook his head and then remembering—and thanking God—that the storekeeper couldn’t see him forced out a soft, “no.”

            There was silence but the mechanic knew the clerk was still standing there. He glanced down just as Nick removed his hand and opened his mouth so that he could take more of the southerner’s length into his mouth. Ellis bucked and sucked in a sharp breath.

            “Well,” the clerk said, obviously not hearing the boy’s gasp, “if you need anything just let me know. I’ll try and get your friend for you.” His footsteps led away and the curtain swished closed.

            And Ellis let out a soft groan, relieved because they weren’t caught but more relieved because he could move. He rolled his hips forward and then around in a circle.

            Nick gave him a hard suck in response and then pulled back. He reached up to pull the boy’s hand from his hair so he could stand. The moment their faces were close Ellis shoved up against him and kissed him hard and sloppy and wet.

            He dropped his hands down to release Nick from his own attire, letting his belt plop down atop his at their feet. He drew the zipper down and then reached inside to draw the older man’s thick length out, not bothering to get rid of his pants.

            Nick drew back then and glanced behind Ellis. The boy tried to turn and see what was so interesting but Nick stopped him with firm fingers against his jaw line. He drew the hick into another kiss before taking the young, strong biceps in his hand and spinning the correspondingly strong torso around.

            Ellis blinked at Nick’s copy over his own reflection’s shoulder. The green eyes solidified then, as they always did during their love making when the older man pushed the younger to lean forward, just ever so slightly. His hands trailed from his back to under the suit jacket and dress shirt to his sides and then hovered over his stomach, as if admiring the flesh there.

            The hands dipped down then, away from the hick’s erection to his hips and then the top of his thighs before slipping back to his ass. Ellis pressed his forehead against the cool glass before him and scrunched his eyes shut, feeling the tip of his cock wet against his lower stomach.

            Nick’s hands moved to his shoulders and pulled him back so his forehead wasn’t against the reflecting surface. And then they disappeared entirely. “No shutting your eyes. Look.”

            “No.”

            “I’m not telling you twice.”

            Ellis opened his eyes and looked into the mirror. His hair, though the majority was still slicked back, had begun to dry and curl while some of the still-wet-strands hung against his foreheads and the sides of his face.

            His face itself was a deep red, settled mostly across his cheeks and just beneath his eyes. Sometimes his flush even spread further than that, descending down his neck even further onto his upper chest. And it was one of those times, although the suit jacket managed to cover most of it.

            Nick stood behind him, arm working up and down as he trialed his fingers over his own erection. They moved slickly with the sound of liquid from their portable bottle of lube the older man seemed to carry virtually everywhere.

            His arm stopped moving then and Ellis grimaced and wrinkled his face as one of those wet fingers pressed into his opening and then another and then a third. When he calmed himself and breathed through the initial stretching and raised his eyes, Nick’s had narrowed to pure green.

            Sometimes they were so green the redneck wondered if they could glow in the dark.

            The fingers withdrew then, quickly, and Nick replaced it with his cock. He pressed in slowly but the moment he was fully encased he pulled back out and slammed back in, seemingly unconcerned with the boy’s preparedness.

            Ellis opened his mouth to protest but was stopped, yet again, by the sound of the curtain being drawn aside. Again, Nick didn’t stop; he just pushed into the boy quickly and watched the display in the mirror. And Ellis stared back.

            He let his mouth drop open in a silent moan and kept it that way, breathing hard through his nose and pressing his hands against the mirror in front of them until his fingertips turned pure white.

            When no voice beckoned out to them and instead the stall door next to them shut and the lock slipped into place the hick reached back to Nick’s hands on his hips, trying to get him to stop.

            But Nick didn’t, and Ellis wasn’t surprised. Between having sex in a restaurant to having sex in the back of Ellis’ truck even though it was uncomfortable and amazing, having sex in a changing room with someone nearby didn’t seem to bother the gambler one bit.

            It was one thing to have someone talking to you during the act, though. Ellis figured the person’s voice could drown out the wet slurp and slide of Nick’s cock driving in and out of the hick’s opening and the soft slap of their skin together but the heavy silence of a person trying on a suit next to them wasn’t going to conceal their actions whatsoever.

            And it seemed like it was the loudest sex they’d ever had to the redneck.

            And yet his cock still hadn’t softened.

            He drew his eyes to catch Nick’s in the mirror and stared hard. He got a smirk in response and an increase in the speed of their coitus. The new force pushed him so hard he had to hold himself up higher so that he wouldn’t repeatedly tap his head against the mirror in front of him.

            But the wet sounds only grew. And the slaps only grew. And his breath only grew.

            The sound of rustling fabric besides them stopped and Ellis heard a voice sound in disbelief and wonder before it grew silent. And there was only the sound of their fucking. And the man next to them was _listening_ and not interrupting and Nick had started grunting behind him and then his hand just barely touched the straining, purpling cock below him and that was it.

            Ellis moaned Nick’s name as his body tensed and jerked and spasmed. His sperm shot out onto the mirror and stuck, thick and white.

            “Fuck,” the older man muttered behind him and although the force didn’t lesson the length of his thrusts shortened to make the movement faster and faster until his fingers bit into Ellis’ hips and his seed spilled up inside of him.

            They panted together, loud and unafraid.

            The lock on their eavesdropper’s stall jerked open and loud footsteps rushed away.

            Nick pulled out of him quickly and Ellis watched as he resituated himself. “Get dressed, kid. I don’t think he enjoyed the show.”

            Ellis reached down blindly for his boxers and started to draw them up slowly before he remembered himself. He looked around. “I don’t got nothin’ta clean myself with.”

            Nick glanced around and bent down, grabbing the tie. He held it to the hick who hesitated a moment before taking it.

            The gambler turned his back as the boy cleaned himself. When Ellis announced he had finished he turned and urged the boy on as he dressed. When the t-shirt had been drawn down over his head, but not yet his body, Nick tugged the boy’s hat over his drying hair.

            “Come on.”

            Ellis obeyed, stepping his boot on the discarded jacket and dress shirt as they exited. He followed closely behind his lover as they walked into the main store.

            “No suit?”

            “No,” Nick said firmly, casting a glance aside at where the clerk was listening to a frantic customer. “No more suits for you.”

            Ellis grinned. “Well, I forgot my water bottle, too.”

            “No more water bottles, either. No more slicking back your hair.”

            The mechanic continued grinning and reached out to grab Nick’s arm as they moved along. “But I get thirsty.”

            The older man swallowed, audibly as they reached the front of the store. “Fine, but no dousing your head with water again. You look…” Ellis’ ears perked and his smile spread, “stupid.” And then his shoulders slumped.

            Sometimes Nick was just plain shitty at lying.

            “Well, what if--…”

            “Hey!” They both looked to the clerk as he rushed from behind his counter.

            Nick grabbed the boy’s wrist and pulled him from the store. The clerk ran after them, practically screaming and waving his arms. A cell phone was in one of his hands.

            And though Ellis probably should have been worried about having the cops called or the fact that he had just gotten cum on some really expensive clothes, all he could think about was how much money he needed to save up and hide from Nick before he could afford to buy his own suit.


	3. God, Nick Hates Coasters

            Ellis hadn’t spoken to him in four days. Which really hadn’t been as horrible for the conman as the hick wanted it to be. The second day he’d actually managed to read for two straight hours before glancing up at the clock. The realization that he wasn’t going to be interrupted was all too welcome.

            The third day hadn’t been any worse. It hadn’t been any better, but it definitely hadn’t been worse.

            The fourth day, the fourth night, right now Nick lay in his bed in their hotel room, staring up into the darkness at the ceiling, moonlighted by the ugly city lights through the slight part of the curtains blocking their window.

            Their hotel room was usually filled with the flickering and sounds of the TV at this time of night. And usually Ellis had managed to find a way to wriggle into Nick’s bed—stupid conversation, or stupid tricks he claimed he wanted to show the older man—so that he could lay there and watch whatever show he had happened to turn on.

            The first few times the gambler had kicked him out but whenever he woke up the redneck was always besides him. He gave up after the fifth attempt.

            Now these last four nights he came to know what sleeping alone felt like again.

            Ellis slept in the opposite bed, on his side with his broad, t-shirted back facing Nick. The majority of the time the kid slept on that back with his foot kicked out from under the blanket. Now, on his side, he was almost curled up under the comforter.

            He wasn’t asleep; Nick could tell by the way he was breathing. He could tell by the way the boy tried to make his movements look lethargic.

            Not that he was going to get up and do anything about it. Especially when he couldn’t even remember what he did to deserve the silent treatment.

            It probably had something to do with how Nick had stared at a waitress of theirs one night or another. Or the strip club he informed the boy he had gone to only after the fact.

            Either one.

            The conman sighed and turned onto his own side so he didn’t have to stare at his junior’s silhouette.

            If the boy was losing sleep it was his own fault, not Nick’s.

            It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried talking to him. He took him out for meals still and tried to make sure he found a radio station with horrible music just so the hick would be pleased. He’d even asked about the goddamn truck or Harley that was tied down behind them in the bed. But Ellis had just stared out the window, unresponsive throughout the entire day’s ride.

            So Nick had given up.

            The kid was pissed and obviously wanted the attention. He just wanted it from the wrong guy.

            Because the gambler hated any kind of drama. He’d had enough of that in the early years of his life, he’d had enough of it in his marriage, and he’d had enough of it with goddamn zombies trying to rip him to shreds.

            He didn’t need it now that he was an adult.

            He didn’t need it now that he was divorced.

            He didn’t need it now that there weren’t things _chasing_ him every day.

            And for fuck’s sake, he didn’t need it or want it when he was fucking a _guy_.

            He may have been new to the homo-team and missed some of the rules, but he was sure that once you were dating a guy things were supposed to be less pissy and bitchy because there was no PMS to fucking deal with.

            And he was so grateful to Ellis for proving him wrong.

            Gritting his teeth he threw his blanket and sheets back and got up, heading to the bathroom near the door of their room. He didn’t bother to shut it behind him as he flipped the light switch.

            The light flickered on, blaring and hot and amplified against the white tile of the small bathroom. He waited a moment for the dull pangs in the back of his eyes to dissipate before he glowered into the mirror.

            And even though he was getting more sleep now than ever before in his life, the man looking back was exhausted and worn.

 

            Nick walked back into their hotel room and woke his lover at five minutes to six AM. He managed to get the boy up and actually brushing his teeth after about fifteen minutes of shaking, shoving, and then one swift smack to the back of his curly head.

            And downstairs, while Ellis got them a table at the hotel’s restaurant he went outside and shoved their bags into the small backseat of their truck. When he joined the redneck at their table, however, he didn’t look up. He was too busy poking at his breakfast of bacon, sausage, and eggs.

            Nick’s meal was already waiting for him: eggs, toast, and a black coffee. He didn’t comment and instead opted to eat and preoccupy himself with the paper that was already laid out on the table.

            When half of his coffee was depleted the waitress, a cute, ample-bosomed girl of twenty or so, came by to refill it. She cast them both a smile. “Anything else I can get you before the check?”

            “Your number?” Nick lifted his brow at her.

            The girl giggled, touched his suited shoulder, and walked off, face as pink as her blouse.

            Ellis snorted from across the table.

            “What?” Nick asked, eyes already back on his paper.

            The hick didn’t answer and when the gambler lifted his gaze he was greeted with the boy’s profile and a particularly grumpy twist to his features.

            Annoyed, he slammed the paper down, jostling the cups and plates and utensils strewn across the table. They clattered and clanked and trembled against each other. And every curious set of eyes in the restaurant was drawn to the sound.

            Nick didn’t care about those, however. He only cared about the blue ones that jolted up, wide and alarmed.

            “This bullshit stops _now_ ,” he growled. The tone was enough to ward the foreign looks away. “Stop acting like a fucking child.”

            Ellis stared at him, unsettled and disbelieving before he drew in a quaked breath. And Nick expected a mumbled, ‘okay’ or a nod or some sort of submissive lowering of his head so he could hide behind his hat, the things he always did whenever the older man got mad. What he got however was the last thing he’d ever expected from the polite, mild southerner.

            Ellis stood and swiped his arm across the table and sent their plates, food, and drinks clattering and breaking and splattering to the floor.

            The conman watched his coffee cup circle about on its rim before it clinked to a stop. The brown liquid seeped out underneath it.

            He stood then, wanting to have his two inch advantage over the younger man. He didn’t know what the advantage was going to do for him because he honestly didn’t know what he was going to do. But his hands were already curled into fists so he pressed his knuckles against the plastic top of the table. “Get in the fucking truck.”

            The redneck didn’t move, jaw set and firm in defiance.

            “Is there a problem, sir?” Nick cast a side glance at the middle-aged, plump woman beside him. She wore the same sort of outfit as the girl before, except hers was far less flattering. She was small but from her stance—hands on her hips and brows perched and expectant—she didn’t seem like someone Nick really wanted to start with.

            “No,” he muttered and readjusted himself to his full height. He pressed a hand into the inner pocket of his suit and withdrew his wallet, sifting through it to find the adequate sum to cover the damage. “The kid’s just throwing a tantrum.”

            Seemingly ignoring Nick’s comment the hick looked to her and then down to her feet. And then his face softened, not because he was reprimanded the conman knew, but because of the inconvenience he had caused her.

            “I’m sorry,” he said, voice raw and truthful. “I’ll clean it.”

            “No, honey,” the elder waitress said. “It’s best if you two just leave.”

            Ellis stayed for a moment before he suddenly rushed by her, face flushed and twisted. It reminded Nick of the times, long ago, when his step-mother would smack him in the grocery store for dropping things into other people’s carts.

            With his lover out of view Nick set his wallet down and bent low to retrieve the broken shards from the floor.

            “Sir, please.”

            “I’m not going to sue you if I get cut, relax,” he grumbled, annoyed that he even felt obligated to help. When he finished he set the pieces on the table and then scooped his wallet back up. He held several green bills out to her and she took them without remark.

            Outside, Ellis was trying to free his Harley from the straps holding it in the bed of his truck. His hands fumbled messily with the straps, as if unfamiliar. As Nick drew closer he realized why: the hick’s face was bright red and his eyes the same kind of brightness in a hue of blue.

            “Are you crying?”

            “Hell no, I ain’t cryin’!” he barked out but his hands stumbled with the straps again.

            “You’re not driving the Harley, get the fuck down.”

            “I ain’t ridin’ wich’you!”

            Nick grit his teeth because four days was long enough to stare at the boy’s back. He heaved himself into the back of the truck, snatched the collar of his lover’s t-shirt and yanked him away from the motorcycle.

            Ellis reared back suddenly, using the momentum from the forceful pull to put power into his stride. And then his elbow smacked soundly against the conman’s nose.

            Nick fell backwards, out of the truck onto the pavement of the parking lot below, hands covering his face.

            “Jesus Christ, Ellis!”

            “Oh shit, Nick,” the boy said, his voice next to Nick’s ear and thick hands pulling on his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meanta.”

            The conman didn’t stand but he let the boy pull him to sit upright before wrenching his arm away. “Get in the goddamn truck!”

            Ellis obeyed this time. Nick listened as his boots scuffed against the ground as he moved, and then to the sound of the truck door opening and closing. He waited a moment, pinching the bridge of his aching, bloody nose before standing.

            When he moved into the driver’s seat his lover was waiting, mouth already open.              

            “I don’t want to hear it. Don’t say a fucking thing.”

            The hick’s mouth clamped shut and he turned away to stare out the window for the fifth day in a row.

           

            A couple hours later Nick purposely led the truck to the right. He gave a satisfied smirk when the truck dipped slightly into a pothole, and it only grew as Ellis’ sleeping head bounced off the glass it had been resting against.

            The boy sat up immediately, jarred. He pressed a hand to his head and looked at Nick, blue eyes clouded by sleep.

            “Where--?” He stopped himself as the memories that had been hazed by his slumber returned. He picked up the map between them and gave it a look over before glancing out his window, eyes set on the signs as they sped past.

            Nick watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy’s brows furrowed. He looked back down to the map and then turned around to look over his seat and through the back window, but the Harley obstructed most of his view.

            Defeated he turned to his lover. “Where are we going?”

            “Eureka, Missouri.”

            “…That where we’re stoppin’ fer lunch?”

            “That’s where we’re stopping for the day.”

            “…Where exactly is Eureka?”

            “Near St. Louis.”

            His face scrunched further, something Nick didn’t know was possible. “You said we weren’t goin’ta St. Louis.”

            “We aren’t. We’re going to Eureka.”

            “You said we weren’t goin’ anywhere near St. Louis,” Ellis corrected himself. “You said we were gonna be north of it.”

            “Changed my mind.”

            “Why?”

            Nick shrugged.

            “Don’t shrug! Why’re we goin’ there?!”

            The conman sighed and glanced over at the boy. “How’s my nose?”

            Ellis lowered his eyes and Nick frowned, wondering why he even brought it up. It hurt, sure, but it was a dull, weak pain compared to what he’d experienced before. He nodded toward the front of the boy’s seat. “Check the glove compartment.”

            The hick obeyed. The small door swung out and several papers pattered down atop it. Ellis picked up the small bundle of unrecognizable pieces on top before closing the compartment. He flipped the sheets over and Nick watched his blue eyes search the page.

            And when the young face broke out in a grin it almost made the older man as well. Almost. The pain in his nose held him back. So he continued looking out onto the road, smug and uncaring although he didn’t really feel that way.

            “Nick?”

            “What?”

            “Yer takin’ me-ta Six Flags?”

            “Mhm. Make you feel bad for hitting me with that weak ass cheap shot?”

            “You hate amusement parks,” his lover reminded him.

            “I know.”

            Ellis laughed once and leaned over to wrap his arms around Nick in one quick, fluid movement. The older man jerked with him, surprised, and swerved just in time to miss an oncoming Toyota.

 

            “You sure you don’t want to find a garage to put her in?” Nick asked. He was watching the southerner pull a worn tarp over his Harley.

            “The park’s already open, Nick!”

            “It’s been open for ten minutes. Twenty more isn’t going to kill you.”

            Ellis shot him a look—a look teenagers give their parents—and hopped down from the bed of his truck to stand on hard earth. “I got the key so she ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

            “Fine,” the older man muttered. He turned from the excited boy to survey the amusement park. Several drastically large rides lay ahead of him. Unanimous, choir-like screams beckoned. And Ellis listened.

            He took the northerner by the blue of his forearm, having told him an amusement park was no place for a suit jacket, and pulled.

            Nick allowed this for a few moments, at least until they joined the throng of people bustling about the entrance. He moved his arm from the boy’s grasp and instead directed his young lover to a ticket-booth with the shortest line.

            “We shoulda got here earlier,” Ellis complained, standing on his toes to look over the heads of the people in front of them.

            “We would have if someone hadn’t been poking at his food for a good half an hour. Besides,” he added, gently, not wanting to stir things up again, though the boy’s excited movements hadn’t ebbed, “the line would’ve been even longer.”

            “Guess yer right.”

            As soon as Nick pushed his money to the cashier and their tickets were pushed out at them in a similar manner, his arm was taken up again. This time he didn’t pull away from the hick… not that he felt he could with how hard the fingers were clasped around him.

            When their tickets were ripped and their bodies scanned, though Nick didn’t know why in the hell they needed airport security here, the conman couldn’t help but regret this decision.

            He’d woken up early on purpose. It had been hard enough to exit the room without waking the boy. If he told the boy it was time to get up he met all the resistance the sleeping hick could muster. But if he so much as touched the doorknob his lover practically shot out of his bed.

            Now, Nick knew why that was, but still, it had gotten somewhat annoying to have Ellis always sneak up on him when he was trying to practice pool.

            That was why he’d been so amazed and proud of himself this morning. He knew he had to find something nearby that would peak the boy’s interest. It had either been the amusement park or a goddamn ranch with horse rides.

            At least with the horse rides he wouldn’t have been tripping over children every thirty goddamn seconds.

            “It’s a good thing you picked a weekday,” Ellis informed him, grip tighter than ever as he pulled Nick towards one of the looming coasters. “’Cause if this was a weekend… Well, I mean damn, man! There’d be so many kids here we’d be swimming in ‘em!”

            “That so?” Nick questioned, imaging his foot connecting with the ass of the child in front of him.

            He was about to lift his foot and follow up on that mental image when Ellis yanked him to the right. He followed the boy as he weaved through the curves and turns of the lines. He guessed the boy was right about the lack of people, because they rushed through the coaster’s labyrinth design until they made it to a set of stairs. There they waited behind other eager and excited youngsters.

            From what Nick could see he was definitely the oldest.

            “…I told you I hated roller coasters, right?”

            “Yup,” Ellis answered.

            “Great. Just checking.”

            His lover grinned at him. “Aw, come on, Nick! This is the Batman ride. We don’t even sit in one of them little cars. You sit in a seat and the bars come over yer chest like this!” He motioned erratically and Nick, for the life of him, couldn’t understand what the hell the movements symbolized. “An’ they hold ya in place. It’s gonna be awesome!”

            “I thought you’ve never been up here.”

            “I haven’t,” Ellis confirmed. “But it’s gonna be great. I mean a ride can’t suck when it’s got a line like this!”

            He had to agree, the line wasn’t like one he’d ever been in before. Granted, he hadn’t been in line at an amusement park since he was about sixteen years old. The boy had pulled him through rather quickly, but from what he had seen the line led waiters through a set, similar to the Gotham he’d seen in all the movies.

            For one reason or another it had led them into a drainage pipe, not something Nick wanted to be in ever again, but since he wasn’t wading through shit this time he guessed he could overlook it.

            As they ascended the stairs up towards the ride’s platform he glanced up at his lover. When they halted again his eyes traced the darkened lines of his face.

            With so many lines, not nearly as many as he had gained, he was sure, he wondered if the boy would ever wake up one day and lose all his enthusiasm to some deep-seeded depression he was keeping hidden.

            And not just lose it for rides or doing crazy things, those things he knew would never change, but his enthusiasm in general. His optimism and overall happiness that just seemed to ooze out of him, even when he was supposed to be angry.

            “Ya’ll scared?” the hick asked, white smile bright even in the darkened area.

            “Why?” Nick smirked. “You gonna hold my hand and tell me everything’ll be alright?”

            Ellis laughed and moved further up the stairs. His eyes lit up suddenly and the gambler swore he could see them glint even with the lack of a proper source to do so. He held out his arm, not the least bit surprised when it was pulled so hard he swore if he hadn’t been ready it would’ve popped right out of his socket.

            He shuffled to keep in line with the boy who edged towards the back of the platform and stood in a new, divided line that would place them in the back seats of the coaster car.

            “The back’s the best. It goes faster than all the other seats.”

            “That can’t be how it works,” Nick muttered.

            “Sure, it is.”

            The duo shuffled forward again as the four people in front of them clambered onto the ride. The small gate separating them from the platform closed shut, blocking the hick from the ride. After a few moments the cart shot out of the area and from Nick’s view.

            “So,” he began, watching as the second cart, full of happy riders pulled in slowly. “This one has a big drop?”

            “I dunno,” Ellis admitted. “But it looked like it had more loops an’ corkscrews an’ stuff!”

            “Corkscrews?”

            “You know! Them turns that spin ya’ll ‘round real fast but they ain’t loops.”

            Yeah, he was really wishing he’d picked the goddamn horses.

            When the former passengers had cleared the gate swung open. Ellis didn’t bother grabbing his partner’s arm this time. He rushed over to the far end of the seats and hopped up, immediately pulling the chest bars down over himself. Nick followed slowly, and only because the two people behind him were almost directly on his heels.

            He lifted himself into the seat and sat back, staring at the back of those in front of him. “What a view.”

            Ellis reached over and pushed his lover’s chest bar down over him. “Ya gotta pull it down so they can lock it inta place.”

            Nick sighed and pulled it down until it locked, firm and supportive against his chest. He wondered dimly if one of these things had ever accidently opened during the ride. He wondered what the rider would look like after that happened, depending on where in the ride it occurred.

            Goddamn fucking smelly horses.

            An acne-faced kid came around and gave a listless pull on each of their safety bars. When none of them gave more than the slightest of budges he moved on. Nick gripped the handles protruding out from his chest bar. “Yeah, that’s safe.”

            “Relax, man,” Ellis said, taking his hat from his head. He gripped it firmly in his hand. “It’s safe. You know how many tests they do on these things?”

            “Does it look like I give two flying shits?”

            The hick snickered.

            “You’re going to lose that hat.”

            “If I didn’t lose it to no zombie apocalypse I ain’t gonna lose it to Batman.”

            “Goddamn, I hate you.”

            Acne-face reemerged far to the left of Ellis. He held his thumb up into the air. And below their dangling feet the platform dropped. And then they rushed from the starting gate.

            The coaster slowed some as they elevated towards the first and largest drop. Nick glanced at the two kids next to him, well mainly the little girl he could see with a tooth-missing grin plastered on her face. Then he glanced over to his lover who looked relatively the same, save for the fact that all his teeth were intact.

            “Here we go, Nick!”

            Like he needed the kid to spell it out for him. He was pretty sure horses didn’t go careening down huge hills before suddenly decided to do a front flip just to amuse their rider. Last time he checked, anyway.

            Nick watched the seats in front of him as they dipped and turned before them. And then they were speeding through the same angle with them, picking up velocity. His legs kicked back of their own accord and he was content to let them follow the commands of gravity and the force of the ride so long as they stayed connected to his body.

            It was like he was thrust onto his back then. His entire body was forced back into his seat as they went upwards. And then they were upside down and it was like everything slowed down and he held his breath and squeezed his hands… and then it was like it was all released. They sped down from the loop onto an even amount of track.

            And at that moment Ellis whooped once, loudly, and followed it up with an insane, consistent laughter.

            They bucked into a left turn then, forcing their coaster completely onto his side. Ellis’ laughter grew and that was it. His grin spread to his older lover’s mouth and then he was laughing too.

            The ride alternated with turns and jerks, and his head was bouncing back and forth but the hick was still cheering besides him, still excited as if he were still waiting to get on the ride. And when they flipped sharply to the right and then to the left and then forcefully for the last time Nick decided the horses could go to hell.

            They flipped up towards the starting gate and the ride slammed to a screeching stop. Nick’s head smacked against the back of his seat, promptly ending his laughter.

            “Ow.”

            Ellis laughed in response. “That was AWESOME! Let’s get in line again!”

            Nick groaned.

 

            At the first bench they could find, the conman plopped down, the action itself made louder by his accompanying sigh. Normally he wouldn’t be caught sitting on such a thing, not with all its germs and whatever the hell that yellow stuff was, but his feet were pounding, just like his back was pounding. Just like his goddamned head was pounding.

            Ellis sat next to him, arms on his elbows. In one hand he held a paper coke cup, though it was filled with water. Nick didn’t see the point in drinking something that was doing more harm than good. Except alcohol because the good derived from that usually was well worth the damage.

            After sucking a gulp through the straw the redneck held it out towards his companion.

            “Sure, ‘cause I want your spit.”

            “You don’t usually complain,” his young lover grinned.

            Nice one. Not that he was going to praise him aloud, though. Instead he took the cup and lifted the plastic cap and took his own gulp off the rim. When he returned the drink they fell into silence.

            Ellis made no attempt to break it, however, so the conman figured it was comfortable enough.

            The redneck had his head turned from him, part of his profile in view. Nick could tell by the boy’s lashes that he wasn’t looking around them, but up. He tried to follow the gaze.

            The sun, though he had noticed before, was in its last phase of settling, the moment where it cast its familiar glow upon the part of the earth it was still straining to see. It worked in brightening the dark sky, for at least a few moments, into an ethereal violet.

            The hue shaded Ellis’ face pink.

            Then the boy turned to him and smiled with a curve of lips. “Wanna go ride the Colossus?”

            Nick sucked in a breath and leaned forward to match his partner’s position. “I don’t think another roller coaster is the best idea for me right now.”

            Ellis hadn’t been lying when he’d told the gambler that they’d picked a less crowded day. They’d managed to get through all of the larger coasters twice and the Batman, Ellis’ new favorite, four times. Though, Nick had refused to go on the fourth time.

            And he’d honestly wondered, as the hillbilly had stumbled towards him afterwards, how he hadn’t thrown up his crappy dinner of chili-cheese fries.

            “Colossus ain’t a coaster,” his former teammate interrupted. “It’s a Ferris wheel.” He pointed at the large structure, relatively close to where they had paused. “You can get a break afore we ride all the big ones again.”

            “Goddammit, kid. When does this stupid park close?”

            “At ten.”

            Nick glanced down at his watch and sighed.

            “C’mon, we’re wastin’ time!” Ellis yanked the older man for the twentieth, sixtieth? time that day. Nick, who could barely feel that arm anymore anyway, followed along. He let the grip drop on its own as they entered the short line.

            He looked up at the large, steel circle as it loomed over them. He watched its false sway against the sky.

            “I love Ferris wheels,” Ellis announced.

            “Yippee.”

            “This one time, at Whisperin’ Oaks, me ‘n Keith were ridin’ it… An’ he ate way too many funnel cakes ‘n beer. An’ then he had a chili dog an’ I guess that chili was rank ‘cause he started complainin’ even afore we even got on the wheel! But he got on anyway, an’ woo man, they hadta shut it down fer two hours to clean off all the puke… ‘Cause he shot down _into_ the ride insteada down at his feet. Y’know, on accounta he didn’t wanna ruin his boots.”

            “Ellis.”

            “What?”

            “Stop talking about vomit.”

            “Yeah,” the redneck murmured. “I guess when you get covered by a boomer no other puke story’s gonna beat it.”

            Nick stepped passed him onto the ride’s platform. When the teen ‘operating’ the capsules opened the door to allow him into the gondola he entered and sat quietly on the right side, eyes already gone as if he were already at the top, staring at the tiny people below.

            Ellis climbed aboard and sat next to him. He smiled at the teen as he clamped the door shut. And then their capsule moved forward.

            Nick leaned his arm against the wall of the gondola beside him and used that angle to lean his head on his hand. As they ascended up towards the sky the hick’s head whipped back and forth quickly so his eyes could take in the sights.

            “Easy, you’ll get whiplash,” Nick warned, smirk tight. “It’s not going anywhere.”

            Ellis stopped and smiled, one of the sheepish nature and then looked around more slowly. “What would we do if zombies broke out and ran through here?” The question was sudden and the gambler did a quick heard turn of his own at it.

            “What?”

            “Like if the flu stuck somewhere ‘round here,” Ellis explained.

            “It takes longer than that to turn,” Nick reminded him.

            “Well, hypothetical an’ all.”

            “Why are you thinking about this?”

            “I always do,” his lover said simply, blinking his eyes as if it were the most normal thought he’d ever had. “So I can think of a way to escape.”

            Nick did it too but he wasn’t about to admit it. And he hated that Ellis had. Because the kid was supposed to be thinking of trucks and motorcycles and horses, not zombies anymore. He was supposed to keep his enthusiasm.

            “Sorry about your nose.”

            The older man was grateful for the topic change, but ungrateful because as if at the mention of it the dull ache in the middle of his face returned.

            “That bad, huh?”

            “Nah, man,” Ellis said, voice soft. “Just a little swollen and purple. It’s not _bad_.”

            The conman rolled his eyes. “Purple and swollen _is_ bad, Overalls.”

            “I said sorry.”

            “I’m not mad.”

            “You sound mad.”

            “Well, I’m not,” Nick snapped.

            Ellis smiled. “Awright.” He sat back in the seat, looking out to his left again, hands in his lap. The sun had gone down further now and the sky was a deeper, darker shade. Now Nick used the lights of the rides to map out his lover’s face.

            “Hope your Harley’s okay,” he said, not sure why he wanted the silence ruptured again.

            “Even if she ain’t it’s not like I paid fer her.” The hick grinned and looked over at him. “Yer makin’ me inta a horrible person.”

            Nick laughed, “I think you’d have to kill a baby to even reach ‘bad.’”

            Ellis’ face softened down into a smile. “It’s fun; I don’t care.”

            “Which part? The stealing? The conning? Or is it the public sex?”

            The hillbilly shook his head, cheeks dark and fixed his hat, although it didn’t need to be. “All of it?”

            “Are you asking me?” Nick questioned, amused. He reached his hand out and gripped the back of his partner’s neck. “You were there.”

            Ellis removed his hat and moved towards his gambler so that their thighs pressed together. “Didja used to do that with yer wife?”

            “No,” Nick murmured. “Because she didn’t like it.”

            “I don’t either!”

            “You came every time.” His green eyes were fixated on the boy’s lips.

            “I’m only turnin’ twenty-six, Nick. I can cum without touchin’ myself.”

            Nick yanked the mechanic towards him hard and yet when he moved in to attack the fuller mouth he was careful both of his nose and the brim of the hat before him, threatening to dig into his forehead.

            The plump lips separated almost immediately, knowingly and obedient. The older man took a moment to dip his tongue inside the willing crevice and after a few quick swipes of the warmth inside he pulled back.

            Mainly because he knew they didn’t have the time but also because the hick still tasted like chili-cheese fries. But he didn’t feel like saying anything.

            Instead he kissed along his younger’s cheek until he came to the smooth jaw line. Then he bit.

            He didn’t usually bite the kid—well, not anywhere anyone could see anyway. Not that he cared because he never cared. People could see if they wanted to. But even if he didn’t care, Ellis did. The brat would deny it if he ever decided to question it, Nick knew. So he never brought it up.

            Because the one time he _had_ given the redneck a hickey the boy had actually bought himself a turtle neck to cover it. Nick had let him pretend it was because he was cold.

            It didn’t bother him anyway. Fuck, it was a lot more subtle than a fist to the cheek so it didn’t matter, really.

            But now he wanted to mark his lover as he had been marked. Different principle, maybe, but if he had to walk around with a mark he was going to make sure the little shit had one that embarrassed him ten times worse.

            Ellis’ hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed and then one of his legs sprawled forward, over Nick’s thighs.

            “Jesus,” the conman hushed against the side of the boy’s soft face. “We’re not fucking up here, hillbilly.”

            “What?” Ellis blinked at him.

            Nick rolled his eyes but smoothed his hand up his lover’s thigh. When he reached where his leg connected to his hip he squeezed, once, before moving his palm to cup his lover’s crotch.

            “Oh,” the Savannah native whispered in realization.

            “Oh,” his companion mocked, adding pressure with the pads of his fingers. “We’ve got maybe a little more than ten minutes.”

            “Mhm,” Ellis mumbled, hand at the zipper of his own jeans.

            Nick stopped his hand. “Yeah, no.” And then he placed the callused touch on the bulge of his own dick through his suit pants.

            Underneath the hat light brows furrowed and grew close, forcing the face below it to scrunch in the same confusion. When Nick pulled on his neck again the look smoothed away.

            “What about me?”

            “Well, someone likes to brag about cumming, so I naturally assumed you didn’t need my help.” The conman smirked at him and withdrew his dirty hat. “Besides the fact that you owe me for my face.”

            Ellis sighed and sat up so he could draw the zipper down. As he began to slip his hand inside his lover caught his wrist, almost painfully.

            “Not after you’ve been touching all those handlebars.”

            The redneck was about to open his mouth and complain but instead he paused for a moment to stare at the older survivor. Slowly, he smiled and then reached out, taking his hat out of Nick’s hand to set it upon his slicked hair.

            And then he lowered his head down and, moving Nick’s length through his pants, guided his tongue through the zipper. After a few moments of rummaging and repositioning, the conman closed his eyes when finally, _finally_ the head of his cock pressed against the hot lips and then into the equally hot mouth.

            Ellis sucked him gently, fingers working the remainder of his shaft through his clothes, his other arm underneath him for leverage.

            And the gambler pressed his hand against the back of the curly hair, tightening it into a fist and then letting his palm rest there, and then drifting his fingernails back and forth and then a fist again to start the different maneuvers all over because he didn’t know which one the hick preferred.

            He gave a deep breath and decided to just smooth the curls, letting his shoulders relax back completely against the seat.

            The hick was still far from giving the best blowjobs he’d ever experienced, but damn if he wasn’t eager enough to make up for his lack of skill. Not that Nick expected or wanted him to have that skill, to be honest.

            Not that he hadn’t learned. Not that he wasn’t still learning. Because, dammit, the way the kid’s tongue was swirling over his head and then against his slit—something he mimicked from the older man’s own ministrations—he could care less whether or not he’d ever be deep-throated ever again.

            He lifted his free hand behind him with the intention to use it as a cushion behind the part of his neck that was touching the seat behind him, but when his fingers grazed the material of the mechanic’s work hat he opted to settle his palm over the material. He eased it back, just slightly, so he could look down, unobstructed at the boy in his lap.

            His head was bobbing, just slightly, but even so he was sucking and licking the hard flesh between his lips thoroughly. When he leant his head to the side and turned his shining eyes up on his lover Nick grunted, loudly.

            He trailed his hand from the hick’s skull down to his muscular back and began working it in circles, goading the boy on.

            Ellis’ supporting arm moved underneath his jeaned hips then and Nick watched the muscles tense as they tightened and then relaxed back and forth. And he kept watching even as his own hips bucked and arched and even as they lowered back down, shaking just barely.

            His sat up immediately and turned his head, spitting the evidence of Nick’s enjoyment onto the floor of the gondola. He reached down to his jeans eagerly and yanked the zipper down. Uncaring for hygiene, at least to his lover’s degree, he pulled himself out. And then he straddled his older lover’s lap and rocked.

            Nick slammed his hands down to the hick’s hips to increase the speed and force of the motion. The gondola rocked just barely with them, an indication of how fast and excited and hard his lover’s thighs were working to increase the friction between their groins.

            Toned arms wrapped around his head then and Nick upturned his face, letting the boy kiss him and displace the hat above his head. When he sucked the plump bottom lip into his mouth the young, shuddering body against him went taught and then shook and then slumped.

            Ellis pressed the bridge of his nose against Nick’s neck after several moments, breath stroking his adam’s apple.

            “You just came on my pants.”

            “Mhm.”

            Nick smoothed his hands up the younger man’s flanks a few times before he turned his head to accommodate his lover’s face. And then he glanced out the window. At where the people and rides and buildings were no longer tiny.

            And just as he finished reorganizing their pants and zipping zippers back up the door to the gondola snapped open.

            The teen stopped, eyes wide and almost bulging as they locked with Nick’s.

            Ellis slid from his lap then, head low. When his hat was replaced onto his head he brought his fingers to the brim and made sure it was covering his face.

            Nick stood and pulled him along by his bicep. “Kid can ride the huge coasters but suspend him in the air for a little while and he gets all clingy.” He pushed the teen back by the chest as they exited.

            Several moments and feet later they stopped and Nick turned to look at his lover. Ellis stood, hand smoothing over the reddening bite mark on his jaw. When their eyes met he grinned and stepped close. “Thinkin’ it’s time we get to the hotel,” he said quietly.

            Nick followed his lead back to the entrance of the park. “Yeah, better ride there anyway.”

            The boy tripped over his boots and fell onto the pavement face first.


	4. God, Nick Loves Hotels

            Ellis had woken the moment they’d entered Denver. He didn’t know why considering he’d driven all night and it was only noon. He figured it had something to do with Nick, who sat beside him with a grim quirk to his mouth and a tightened whiteness in his fingers. So somebody must’ve cut him off and the following instinctive mash of the horn had been used to startle them. Unfortunately it had the same effect on the hick.

            His blue eyes were still drooping and crusted with sleep. His whole head was heavy and fuzzed resulting in a fog of mind. But he didn’t go back to his slumber.

            Ellis usually slept through the day, well at least the first part of it. He always drove the truck when they opted to drive through the night. Part of it was his own paranoia regarding her safety but most if it was because even at twenty-five years he still possessed the sleeping habits of a teenager.

            That didn’t dampen his obligation to Nick, however. The conman would switch seats with him at night but he never went to sleep immediately. Instead he’d let Ellis tell him one of his thousands of stories or once in a rare while tell one of his own. And if Nick could do that for him Ellis could manage to rouse himself by one in the afternoon so he could keep the man entertained or at least awake during the final stretch of his shift.

            Nick wasn’t talking now, though. His eyes were on the road and Ellis wondered if it was even apparent that he was awake.

            So he stretched his legs and arms out as well as he could and looked to the backseat for his hat. “We stoppin’ fer lunch?”

            “Yes,” Nick replied, curt but thick. His shoulders were squared beneath his dress shirt.

            Somebody had definitely cut him off.

            Ellis pulled his cap onto his skull. “Where?”

            “A hotel.”

            “A hotel? We checkin’ in?” When he received a nod the boy tilted his head, like a curious dog. “Ya tired?”

            “You are.”

            “But Ikin sleep juss fine in my truck.”

            “We’re both going to catch up on our sleep.”

            “Okay,” the hick said, falling quiet. If Nick had already decided then he’d go along with it. No sense not to.

            But, still, stopping so early meant Nick must’ve been at the end of his rope. It was probably his own fault as Ellis had a tendency to ignore any fatigue that didn’t result in his body collapsing into a slumbering heap for the following eight hours. And so naturally he must’ve ignored Nick’s as well.

            Being through the zombie apocalypse and all the stress they had sometimes made the mechanic forget that they were still human. That they could still break and fall.

            Not many other people who had lived through the event had struggled nearly as hard as they had. There were a few that they had met but for the most part they had been alone. They still were.

            Rochelle had complained about it after a few weeks in the survivor camp. The foursome often ate alone and remained alone. Because they weren’t just evacuees. They were the real survivors. They were the true immune. And somehow they’d become idolized and untouchable.

            Where it had bothered their female member it made perfect sense to Ellis. Because they shied away from people just as much as it was done to them. Because they were different.

            It had been part of the reason he’d latched onto Nick so quickly. Yeah, his family for the most part was still alive and some of his friends… But there was nobody in the world he trusted more than Coach, Rochelle, and especially Nick.

            Well, it was one of the reasons he’d latched onto the gambler, anyway. The fact that he’d wanted to decline their help and go alone and that’d he constantly repeated he only needed their help in order to survive had been undermined every time he’d patched the redneck up or faced down a tank or witch for the boy.

            And then in the camp he hadn’t shrunk away from his companions now that they had no ‘use.’ And he hadn’t told their youngest member to fuck off when he’d asked where the northerner was headed once they were allowed to go. And he’d let the young man bring him home and the moment he’d had enough and had packed his bags Ellis’ had already been packed a week in advance.

            And Nick had let him come.

            And the fact that their adventures were some of the best he’d ever had, considering their specific (and what he guessed Nick thought was sublte) focus on the redneck’s happiness, he’d never regretted any step of the journey to get to that point.

            “I hope they have a Jacuzzi. Then you’ll be able-ta relax in it.”

            “I’m sure they will.”

            “An’ a pool. An’ a gym.”

            “It does,” Nick said, glancing over at his partner.

            Ellis’ eyes were waiting and they smiled along with his lips. “You gotta ‘nother plan.”

            “Don’t think I go around planning things for you just because of that amusement park.”

            “Okay.” Ellis continued smiling.

 

            To say that the hotel was fancy was a huge understatement. Ellis was fairly sure that he’d never been anywhere so fancy. There were people walking around in business clothes with cell phones and briefcases. Several were strewn about the lobby on laptops.

            Nick, with his suit and nice shoes, looked like he belonged. Ellis on the other hand… well he was just wishing he’d bought that suit.

            “Hang tight here,” Nick murmured to him, dropping his travel bag besides the hick’s boots before walking across the room.

            Next to Ellis the elevator dinged and he shuffled closer to the bag and out of the way.

            In front of him the gambler approached the front desk, withdrawing his wallet from the pocket within his suit jacket. Ellis couldn’t see Nick’s face but from the female clerk’s face he was probably smiling.

            And when Nick held out his credit card and purposely trailed his fingers over hers Ellis had to wonder if he was at least getting a discount out of it. The woman’s face was pink and she held an embarrassed, timid smile of uncertainty.

            After a few seconds of typing she held the card back out to its owner and he took it to tuck it safely away. And he did the same with the receipt she handed him. As he finished pressing it into that pocket he leaned across the marble top towards her.

            The woman’s face blotched red in an explosive display again which meant the conman was probably saying something particularly good. Or he’d forgotten to fully button up his dress shirt again.

            The clerk handed him a beige pamphlet from behind her. Nick’s head bobbed in a nod as he looked it over and suddenly the woman’s expression fell. The color drained out and her eyes widened and all her coy shyness was replaced by annoyance.

            Nick stood then, gave her another nod, and walked back to rejoin the boy by the elevator.

            “Told you they had a Jacuzzi,” the northerner said, holding out the small packet. It was opened to a page full of several blue blurbs of water.

            As Nick pressed the button to call the elevator one of the pools in particular caught Ellis’ eye. He stared up at his lover, mouth slack.

            “What?”

            “They gotta wave pool, man!”

            “So?” A thick eyebrow rose.

            “So we’re gonna go swimmin’!”

            “No.”

            “Please?”

            “You can.”

            “I wantchya to come with me,” Ellis admitted.

            Nick sighed and bent down to retrieve his bag. When he stood back up he hiked it high on his shoulder, almost to his neck. “Ellis, I’m almost thirty-eight; there’s no way I’m going into a wave pool with a bunch of kids.”

            “Please?” The southerner tried again, ignoring the argument completely.

            “No.”

            “Will you think about it?” Ellis asked. He repositioned his bag so he could reach out to the older man’s chest and fastened the two buttons that, as he had guessed, were opened low, almost to the top of his stomach.

            Nick smiled and looked to the opening doors. “No.”

            The hick sighed, defeated, and followed his suited lover into the elevator after its former occupants piled out. The doors shut behind after the button for their floor was pushed, leaving him and Nick in generic-music filled vocal silence. The older man was staring next to himself, into the mirror that lined the walls of the lift. When Ellis glanced in the same direction he met the intense eyes of Nick’s doppelganger.

            “What?”

            “Nothing. I’m just fond of mirrors.”

            The redneck’s face burned and he looked down to his hands which were thumbing through the pamphlet once again. He turned from the pool page to the gym.

            “Look,” he said after clearing his throat, “they gotta track an’ all them fancy machines.”

            “Yeah? Turn the page.”

            Ellis did as he was told and promptly wrinkled his nose. “A spa?”

            “What’s that face for?”

            “Ain’t that like puttin’ green good on yer face an’ those cucumbers on yer eyes?”

            Nick shook his head and sighed. “Doesn’t have to be. I’m talking about a massage.”

            “I don’t want some weird person touchin’ me,” Ellis said immediately, turning back to the pool’s page.

            “I never said you were going. I’m going. You’ll go swimming.”

            The elevator dinged at the ninth floor and the doors pulled apart. Nick exited first and Ellis followed him around the curve of the hall and further still until they arrived at their room: 927.

            With a swipe of the card key the latch on the door clicked openly loudly in the almost-silent hall. Ringed fingers pressed the door open and then flipped the light switch.

            “Holy shit,” Ellis murmured eloquently.

            The first thing he noticed was how clean the room was. All the other hotels they had stayed in held wear and tear and the obvious signs of former use. This place… well it was like it had been made and cleaned only for the two men now standing in it.

            They stood in the parlor area and the hick was staring straight at a flat-screen television. Before it sat tables adorned with champagne bottles, chairs, and of course a couch. On the right wall rested the window. The blinds were pulled back and the city of Denver in warm sunlight stared in at them. Ellis went over immediately and peered out.

            “How much did this place cost?!”

            “Don’t worry about it,” Nick replied, moving to the far left of the room, to where Ellis had seen the open door to the bedroom further back. When he disappeared inside the southerner followed after.

            Inside was another flat-screen and Ellis couldn’t believe his luck. The door to the bathroom was situated next to the entrance and he stuck his head inside after flicking on the light. The bathroom itself was huge and the tub was big enough to rival his bed back home in Savannah. Hell, the entire bathroom almost took up the same amount of space as his old room.

            He withdrew then and turned back to his lover who was unpacking his necessities on the king-size bed in the center of the room. The only bed in their hotel room. The redneck lifted his eyes to the northerner.

            “Only one bed,” he echoed his thoughts. “We sleepin’ together?”

            For the past few hotel visits they hadn’t been able to lie together. Well, Ellis hadn’t been able to sneak into his lover’s bed anyway. It was because their last few hotels… well, if their current hotel was a five then the last few places were two’s at most. So those beds, besides being boards with blankets, had been skinny as hell.

            Ellis had constantly woken with his leg dangled over the edge.

            When he had tried to lay flush against the older man he had promptly fallen away—and not from Nick’s shoving for once.

            The way the mechanic saw it, though, Nick didn’t hate lying with him as much as he said he did. Sure, Ellis flailed around in his sleep and one tie he had even smacked his wrist against his lover’s mouth so hard he split his bottom lip. More often than not though, especially in the last few months, the younger man was placid. He figured it was mainly because he was now used to sharing his bed.

            And he knew Nick had been used to sharing his according to the stories of the clinginess of his former wife. That was one of the reasons he made sure he never lay across the furred chest or curled against the strong side. His lover didn’t speak fondly of the woman and he knew, while he was nowhere near her level, he was already testing the conman’s patience with his insistent of doing anything and everything together… oh, and he guessed he got jealous. Only sometimes.

            But, still, for a man who complained so often he did a good job of instigating the boy’s actions.

            There were nights—and the southerner had only woken twice so far—where fingers smoothed against his skull and traced his shoulder. Ellis guessed it could’ve meant Nick wanted to have sex but he liked to think otherwise because the gambler had never had issues waking him any other time. Besides, when he kept his eyes shut and breathing slow in feigned sleep the touches continued, no lust or demand evident.

            So he made sure not to press his luck. Because having his hair stroked was actually one of his favorite things in the world and he secretly believed Nick knew it.

            “In case you didn’t notice,” the gruff voice broke through his thoughts, “there’s a couch out there.”

            And Ellis’ smile, that he never noticed because it was usually plastered on his face most of the time these days, melted.

            Nick watched him, amused. “Knock it off; you’re going to come crawling in here anyway and you know it.”

            The hick’s grin returned.

 

            “You’re not wearing your goddamn hat in here,” Nick informed him, hand on the door to the gym.

            “I wear my hat everywhere!”

            “Ellis, that’s why I’m not letting you wear it. I’m not going to smell your sweat for the next two weeks.”

            “I ain’t takin’ it off.”

            “Jesus, you stupid hick. After the shit I do for you you’d think you could just take your hat off for me when I ask.”

            Ellis frowned, chest clamped and squeezed. Slowly he pulled the cap from his head. He held it to Nick.

            “Damn, you’re easy to guilt, kid,” the gambler replied, taking the offering.

            The younger man furrowed his brow. “Y’all didn’t hafta make me feel bad.”

            “What? Because I said you smell after working out? Everyone does.”

            “Not that.”

            Nick regarded him a moment and then reached out to grab the back of his neck. “If I thought any of it was a waste of money I never would’ve bothered.”

            Ellis’ head swam with questions but his mouth murmured an ‘okay’ and he let himself be placated.

            When they entered and crossed through to the track rack that circled a basketball court the older man turned suddenly. “If you can keep up with me for an hour I’ll let you wear your hat.”

            “Y’all really think that’s a good bet to make, old man?”

            “New bet: you keep up and I won’t beat your ass.”

 

            Ellis had acquired many things to add to his favorites list since he had begun traveling with Nick. A lot of those things, like suits and conning, he’d never considered before. And gay sex was something he had never even fathomed. And so he wondered if any of his own habits had the same effect on his lover. And he wondered if Nick liked to watch him as much as he watched the older man.

            Nick always wore a black t-shirt when they were working out. While Ellis opted for whatever t-shirt laid on top when he opened his bag, considering he’d end up taking it off anyway, his lover was always adamant about wearing the same thing.

            And it wasn’t like he didn’t have other t-shirts; he wore them to bed every night. It was just the man’s paranoid hygiene rearing its head again.

            Although, for once, Ellis figured it was better he was wearing that shirt. The older man’s tight grip to the back of his neck and their hour-long run, in which the conman let him prattle on and then even engaged in a final sprint to the finish with the boy, had almost thoroughly dampened his desire to exercise.

            Well, until Nick started on the lat machine.

            His lover didn’t sweat like Ellis did and truthfully that had been why he hadn’t blamed him for the hat comment, he just honestly hadn’t thought about it. Nor had he ever exercised or played a sport without it.

            At the moment Ellis’ hands were already slipping on the grip of the tricep machine he was sitting at. He had tried to shed his shirt but the air was still warm and his skin still hot. He had tried to wipe his palms on his shorts but the moistness would return only seconds later. And he had tried to towel down his wet curls but he could still feel their dampness against his neck and forehead.

            Even in their hour long run, while Nick had breathed deep and paced with him, sweat hadn’t rolled down his forehead and neck and arms the way it did the hick’s. And sure, he’d seen the conman sweat, apocalypse and sex included. But in order to have the same effect while exercising Nick had to lift exceedingly heavy weights.

            And Ellis had discovered another of his favorite things, a while back during one of their romps in one of the nicer hotels they had stayed in. Nick had been really excited that night, and the hick hadn’t known why, in fact they’d just been watching a show about cars and he had been telling his lover what the ‘celebrity’ mechanic was doing and why he was doing it—mostly to be showy—and the next thing he knew he was naked and the conman’s arms were under his thighs, using his upper body strength to angle the younger man’s hips upwards so that he could drive between them.

            And that’s when he saw it, a bead of sweat that rolled so slowly, as if savoring the skin it traveled upon, from behind the gambler’s ear down along the column of his throat before coming to rest in the shining coat gathered in the dip of his collarbone.

            And Ellis had shoved himself up, tongue out, and traced the moisture trail from end to origin.

            When he had leaned back his lover’s eyes were that pure green. And then the redneck’s back had been up against the nearest wall and goddammit if Nick hadn’t tried to pound him through it.

            The end result had been two very immobile men the next day, bedridden and complaining, one about his ass and the other his back.

            And now, as the southerner watched, that same bead rolled down that same path along the curve in his neck and further down to where its motions were hidden by the black of that damned t-shirt.

            Ellis’ hands slipped from the machine’s bars, dinging painfully against the metallic skeleton of the machine. When he muttered a curse Nick glanced over.

            He shot his blue eyes to the side, to the large glass window that separated the weight room from the rest of the gym but more blatantly from the pool room that lay a little further away.

            “Just go,” Nick breathed, misunderstanding the boy’s frustration.

            And Ellis jumped up, no argument or urge to correct his companion poised. Because being submerged in cold water seemed like a good idea to him at the moment.

 

            A few hours later Ellis had made several new, young friends with whom he was currently contending against the wave pool.

            A little girl, Susie, was on his back and the young Jake was clinging to his arm. A little further away stood Mary who was older than the others—old enough to blush at Ellis, but not old enough to understand that blush. And certainly not old enough to deny playing with her friends in a pool.

            And the hick certainly wasn’t ignoring it either, even at his age.

            He gave a yell and dove into the next wave that rolled lazily towards them. When he resurfaced the kids around him were giggling and spurting water and clinging.

            Susie loosened the hold of her arms around his neck to drop back into the water and Jake tugged on his tattooed arm.

            “Throw me!”

            “Throw ya?! Awrite, if ya say so.” He picked the nine-year-old up by the armpits and after one practice heave tossed the boy further into the pool, ready to follow if necessary. But the freckled face popped up a few seconds later, plump in a semi-toothless smile.

            Ellis reached out as he paddled closer to draw him through a wave by his skinny arm.

            Susie pawed at his wrist, wanting the same treatment. After her launch she too paddled back.

            “Y’all wanna be thrown, Mary?” The hick turned to her.

            The slightly older youngster shook her head quickly, face still stuck in its flushed red from when Ellis had first spoken to her.

            Ellis shrugged and picked Jake up to toss him again. After his resounding plop in the water further off he reached out to Susie.

            “Which one’s yours?”

            “Mine? The big one with the ugly tattoo.”

            Ellis turned, already grinning, to where Nick, still in his workout clothes, stood near the right edge of the pool talking to the mother of one of his new friends.

            Well, talking or flirting, he couldn’t really tell because when it came to Nick talking to pretty women they were usually so closely linked it was hard to tell if he was asking for directions or a phone number.

            “Hang on,” he told his friends when they began to protest to his sudden distraction. He gave them a splash and then waded across the pool to his partner’s feet.

            Resting his arms on the tiled edge of the pool he lifted himself, letting the weight of his torso rest upon the hard surface just so, resulting in a balance of legs behind him in the water.

            Nick bent down to him, eyebrows high on his face and eyes smoldering with amusement. He rubbed the line of his jaw and lifted those eyes to the kids behind the hick. “Jesus, you found a whole slew, didn’t you?”

            “Well, you didn’t wanna swim an’ swimmin’ ain’t fun when yer doin’ it alone. They’re cute, huh? That there’s Susie, Jake, an’ Mary’s the shy one further back.”

            “Yeah. Cute. Let’s go get dinner.”

            Ellis frowned. “In a couple minutes?”

            Nick’s blank stare bore into his head and the hick wondered briefly where his hat was. When the look softened he forced a smile onto his face. “Asides they still wanna play. Y’already gotchyer massage, right? So swim a little.” He reached his hand out to Nick’s neck, fully intent on taking advantage of the older man’s unstable, hunched position.

            “I already said no,” Nick growled, leaning back and away from the younger survivor’s reach. “I don’t even have a bathing suit for fuck’s sake, Overalls.”

            “Don’t gotta use them words in fronta the kids,” Ellis hissed.

            “Them words ain’t even loud enough for the brats to hear,” the older man snapped. “Stop fidgeting, you’re splashing water everywhere.”

            The redneck grinned and lifted his body from the pool.

            “Do it and I swear I will leave you in the closest truck-stop so you get gang raped by a bunch of horny truckers,” Nick threatened and stood, backing up away from his lover.

            Ellis’ grin grew, devilish and handsome. He lunged after the older man, knowing damn well Nick wasn’t about to risk his dignity by sprinting away.

            And his lover didn’t disappoint. The mechanic wrapped his wet arms about the larger man happily and tightly, encompassing both arms and torso, rendering the former two appendages useless. He pressed in close to let his wet trunks dampen the dry, but smelly, fabric of Nick’s attire.

            And then he started to move his lover back towards the pool, thighs straining with the effort. And Nick fought back carefully, using his own leg strength to pull against the tugs while watching the placement of his sneakers so that he didn’t accidentally crush any of the hick’s toes.

            But while the sneakers may have been fine for running and lifting weights, they were the worst shoes, well after his fancy dress shoes, the conman could have been wearing near the wet surface. They squeaked and slid and provided no traction and no salvation for the older man who was faced with his young lover’s gripping, bare feet. And so they both toppled over into the pool.

            Ellis emerged first to an uproar of laughter both from his younger friends and their mother’s who sat in the beach chairs that had been set up along the perimeter of the room.

            Nick jerked up then, spewing water and curses, clothes plastered to the bends and outlines of his body. And then his hands immediately snapped to his head, slicking the now errant strands back into place along the curve of his head. His eyes fell on the hick.

            Trying his best, ‘I didn’t meanta’ grin, the redneck started moving backwards through the water towards his playmates, hoping Nick wouldn’t gut him when children were in sight.

            The now-drenched northerner followed, face grim, wading through the water surprisingly quickly, as if it weren’t even a hindrance. So Ellis stood and started stroking his arms through the water, as if that would give him extra speed to get away.

            “Now, Nick, there’re kids ‘round,” he said, voice almost playful.

            A wave rolled into Nick’s side, sending him just slightly off balance, but his eyes never left the blue ones in front of them and his stride circled back around. With hunched shoulders and a sideways step he looked as if he were stalking the twenty-something year old.

            “You just pulled me—fully dressed—into a pool.”

            “Well… at least ya weren’t wearin’ yer suit,” Ellis offered. When he neared his three friends he glanced over his shoulders at them.

            Each of their faces held round eyes and equally round, open ‘o’-shaped mouths. Their fearful gazes were on Nick, who he guessed was moving closer. But since he was so near the kids and his new friends, Ellis turned, fearless.

            Well, firstly because Nick wasn’t about to beat him in front of a bunch of impressionable young kids and secondly because he wasn’t afraid of his travelling companion. Though he couldn’t really blame the kids for their expressions.

            “Hey, y’all, he ain’t gonna do nothin’,” Ellis assured them. “This is Nick. He’s my—ack!”

            Nick’s bicep bulged into his throat from where the older man had thrown his arm around his lover’s neck. He gave a swift, but gentle yank backwards that Ellis moved with. When his back touched the wet fabric of his shirt and the muscles underneath he relaxed into the hold, hands resting on the strong forearm around him.

            “Just going to borrow this,” the older man informed the horrified children. “And do as I say, not as I do.” And then he shoved Ellis under the line of the water and with both arms on the broad shoulders held him there.

 

            When Ellis walked out of the bathroom, towel around his waist while patting down his hair with another, Nick was already dressed in his suit. He was sitting in the chair near the wall of the bedroom, reading glasses resting on his nose and one of the Denver newspapers in his hands.

            “I juss wantchya to know I’m still coughin’ up pool water.”

            “Noted,” the dressed man replied, turning to a new page.

            Ellis muttered under his breath and pulled a pair of boxers out from his travel bag. He slipped them on under the towel and then threw he discarded, wet cloth in Nick’s direction. It plopped onto the floor next to him.

            Nick gave his partner what he guessed was supposed to be a stern look but it failed because the older man was too amused that his aim had missed. Ellis stalked over and, pretending to be interested in the headlines, plucked the gambler’s designer glasses from his face and placed them on his own.

            A sigh filled the air. “You really just want to be annoying today.”

            Ellis didn’t reply, but his leg bumped against the end of the bed as he tried to cross back over to his bag. “…We goin’ta eat?”

            “Yeah. Downstairs.”

            The mechanic’s callused hands stopped and then fiddled with the zipper of his bag. “I ain’t got no clothes to wear down there.”

            “You have tons of clothes.”

            “You didn’t let me buy that suit,” Ellis argued. “Everyone else’ll be dressed nice an’ I’ll be in jeans.”

            Nick sighed again and rose from the chair. When he neared the younger man he pulled the black bag towards him and began to rifle through it. “I told you to pack at least one nice outfit.”

            Ellis didn’t reply.

            The ringed hands stopped in their search and then pushed the bag away. “It didn’t occur to you that I might take you someplace nice?”

            “No,” the boy admitted, heartbeat loud in his ears.

            Nick seemed to catch himself and turned his back to both his lover and the words. “Fine. Whatever. We can order room service.” He began to peel his suit jacket from his shoulders but Ellis’ hand stopped him.

            “Ikin wear somethin’a yers,” he said.

            “Nothing I have will fit you.”

            “It’s juss dinner,” Ellis said, going to the closet where Nick had hung his clothes. “An’ we’re gonna be sittin’ anyway.”

            Nick followed him and after a quick survey of his suits withdrew a black one, different and yet similar to the one he was already wearing. He pressed it, hanger and all, to the chest beside him. “No slicking your hair back.”

 

            Another one of else’s favorite things was the fact that he and Nick both ordered their steaks the same way: medium-rare. And as such as soon as the hick had finished ordering his companion had simply muttered a simple, ‘ditto’ that was enough to cause Ellis’ face to split in a wide smile.

            When the plate was set before him Ellis attacked the grilled vegetables first because he was always told to eat them, no matter whether they tasted good or not. And he might as well get them out of the way first so he didn’t ruin the taste of the steak later on.

            And Nick speared his vegetables first, too.

            Ellis hadn’t noticed up until now, well, because up until now they hadn’t sat down at a restaurant or hotel trustworthy enough to order a steak and expect it to actually be half-way decent. And that was especially true with the last few hotels, which is why they had opted to drive through strange towns for random, decent restaurants. And why Ellis had almost been tempted to sleep in his truck.

            Luxury wasn’t something he was used to, but neither was extreme filth, no matter how the thickness of his accent suggested otherwise.

            And he knew for certain Nick didn’t like extreme filth. The man always carried hand-sanitizer with him for crying out loud. Not that the southerner could really blame him after what they’d been through, but still. Nick was decidedly anti-germ.

            Which is why the last few hotels had surprised him. Now he was sure Nick’s family wasn’t overtly rich, well off, hell yes, but swimming in cash—probably not. But he knew that Nick had never had to grow up in some dingy—And then Ellis’ head jerked up as one thought drove through and halted the rest of the spiraling tangents and questions.

            “Y’all were savin’ up fer this,” he accused of his lover who was taking a sip of the wine that he’d ordered for them.

            “For what? Dinner?”

            “No. Fer this hotel. Y’all _did_ plan this!”

            Nick smiled at him and pressed the tips of his fork through a grilled carrot before depositing it in his mouth. After he finished chewing he nodded his head towards the boy’s side of the table. “Shut up and drink your wine.”

            “I don’t drink wine,” Ellis said.

            “Because you’ve probably never tried it.”

            “I had it in communion.”

            Green eyes rolled and the head they rested within shook. “That’s a completely different and usually shitty wine. Drink.”

            Unable to raise any other argument and seeing as alcohol was alcohol the hick reached out to the glass. He mimicked the way Nick’s fingers rested around the globular bottom, fearful that the delicate glass would shatter within his usually too-heavy grasp. When it didn’t he tipped it towards his lips and took a sip of the red liquid.

            He wasn’t surprised that his lover was right. His communion wine, while he didn’t remember it too well, probably hadn’t been like this because he would’ve remembered it.

            “Tastes fruity,” he murmured, confused. “I didn’t think wine was supposedta taste like that.”

            “Yeah, well I have a feeling you wouldn’t like any of the ‘normal’ wines,” Nick replied.

            Ellis set the glass down and went back to his dinner, shoveling his vegetables onto the fork before lifting it to his mouth. When the white of the plate looked up at him he put his fork back down and looked up to his lover who was watching him carefully.

            Embarrassed, but not sure why, Ellis reached up to pull at the collar of his borrowed white dress shirt. “Keith tasted wine afore an’ he said it tasted like vinegar. An’ that’s just downright nasty… y’all ever drink straight up vinegar? I mean, not swallow it er nothin’ but just have a mouthful?”

            Nick shook his head.

            “Don’t do it, man. He told me it wasn’t that bad and I didn’t talk to him fer another week… until I cut the breaks on his bike an’ made him crash into a wooden fence. Then I could ‘cause we were even.”

            “You’re an idiot.”

            “Yeah,” Ellis said, eyes having drifted around the room with his mind trailing after. “We gonna stay somewhere like this when we getta Vegas?”

            “Sure.” Nick began to cut his steak. “If you want.”

            “Well… Iunno, I mean. It’s cool but… we got enough money fer that?”

            “Don’t worry about it.”

            “Why’re you always sayin’ that?” Ellis asked, turning to look across the table. “I ain’t no kid er nothin’.”

            “It’s my money, that’s why I say it.”

            The redneck frowned and began to cut his own meat. “Yeah, but, I do worry. ‘Cause it’s yer money, not mine.”

            Yet another sigh, the third time that night, left his partner’s lungs. When Ellis looked up he was smoothing one of the cloth-napkins over his mouth. And then he wrinkled it in his hand and leaned his weight on his right elbow, moving just slightly closer to his date. “What did I tell you before?”

            Ellis didn’t repeat what he’d been told because he wasn’t a child and Nick didn’t press the issue, instead he tilted his wine glass to his face again.

            “Well, I’m gonna repay you,” the Savannah-native said, resolute. “At least fer half of it, half of it’s me and half of it’s you an’ all.”

            “Gonna have to find a job.”

            “I will,” Ellis said, putting a piece of his steak into his mouth. He chewed it carefully, a thoughtful look on his face. And then he swallowed. “I mean, Ikin find one when we settle down.”

            There was a slight gag of liquids from across the table and Ellis snapped his head up quickly when Nick gave a loud cough into a curled fist. After a few more coughs and a clearing of his throat he set down his wine glass, eyes on the table cloth.

            “You okay?”

            “Yeah,” Nick said automatically but his face was haggard and lined. He looked up at the boy across from him.

            “Y’all gotta learn not to just suck it down ‘cause it’s alcohol,” Ellis preached, voice on the edge of playful.

            His lover flashed him a smile and went back to his steak, face smoothing and shoulders relaxing at his lover’s misunderstanding.

            But Ellis didn’t misunderstand and Ellis wasn’t blind. And he wasn’t stupid. Sure, he couldn’t understand real hard math or science or fancy, innuendo-filled books, but he understood people just fine.

            That was one of the reason’s he’d taken such a liking to Nick when most people found it easier to back away.

            And he’d naturally assumed that liking was returned. Hell, he’d naturally assumed it even before the first time he’d let the older man claim him and turn everything he’d understood on its ass.

            And he supposed he assumed things too much because again, he’d naturally assumed that their journey had to end somewhere. And he’d naturally assumed when it did end, whether it be on the west coast, east coast, south, or Midwest he and Nick would be together and they’d stay that way.

            And he didn’t know why he’d assumed it, but he did. And he didn’t really see any other way of things. They’d get a house or an apartment, he didn’t really care, and Ellis would find a job in a shop and Nick could keep conning people or open a bar or be a doctor or whatever the hell he wanted to preoccupy his time during the day with so long as he was there at night when Ellis got back.

            The waiter walked up to their table and the southerner heard him talking but didn’t take the time to understand the words. His lover said something back and then was quiet.

            “Hey, kid,” Nick said, voice low.

            Ellis, stoic, lifted his eyes. The waiter was gone.

            “We’ve got a lot to see before then.” And he smiled, thin but genuine and hopeful, hopeful that it was enough.

            It wasn’t, but it was close, so Ellis returned the smile with one of his sweeter, more endearing ones and went back to his steak. And he could only hope that when he brought it up again, maybe in a few months, the man wouldn’t look at him like he was insane.

            When he looked up again, after finishing his steak, Nick’s eyes were on him as if they had never left, even though judging by his mostly-eaten meal they had. Even so, the green pools were apologetic and his face was tight and lips even tighter, as if there was something that needed to be said locked away inside.

            And the fact that Nick even bothered to catch his eyes, continue the meal, and try to make amends helped.

            So Ellis smiled at him again, pleased and leant forward. “Betchya never did this fer yer wife.”

            “You’d be right.”

            That helped, too. Ellis slid his hand along the table cloth and then grabbed his wine glass again, taking a sip. “How come?”

            “Because she was a bitch.”

            “I mean it.”

            “So do I,” Nick said, voice tinged in amusement. “You think I’m joking when I talk about her?”

            The waiter walked back to their table, then, a dish in his hand. He set it down at the edge of their table as he cleared the other plates away carefully. And then he pushed the new platter in front of Ellis before retreating away.

            A piece of chocolate cake lay upon it, drizzled with even more chocolate that had deliberately been spilled over the food itself and the plate. Atop this dressing lay a strawberry, half-covered by a bulb of whipped cream.

            “You don’t talk about her,” Ellis said, trying to conceal his delight because dammit he loved desserts. “You only mention her.”

            “Well some people don’t like to rant on and on about boring topics, Overalls.”

            “My stories ain’t borin’,” the hick mumbled, leaning back and slouching in his seat, temporarily forgetting his treat.

            “Okay, fine. But that one would be.”

            “So? I want to know.”

            “Want to know what?”

            “Why you married her if you hated her?”

            “Well obviously I didn’t hate her in the beginning.” Nick frowned.

            “Why’d you hate her?”

            “Jesus, Ellis. Because she was a bitch.”

            “Yeah, but _why_?”

            His lover’s face lined again, this time in anger and frustration. He let his napkin plop from his hand down onto the table where he promptly drummed his fingers over it, turning his head to look elsewhere. Ellis watched the muscles of his jaw tighten beneath the taut skin over them.

            All Ellis knew about Nick’s ex-wife was that she had stolen a lot of money from him. And sure, that was enough to be mad at somebody, but with the way Nick was throwing money left and right for Ellis it didn’t really make that much sense. There had to be more to it and he wanted to know.

            Because he told Nick practically everything about his own life but never got anything in return except a few stories about people he’d conned and a dog he had once.

            He never got to know about the people Nick cared about or had ever cared about – because there had to have been a few, he didn’t care what the gambler claimed.

            But Nick didn’t answer, and his eyes were searching the wall above the heads of other customers as if expecting a way out of the conversation to be plastered there.

            Ellis chewed on his lip and then reached out to touch his lover’s hand. It promptly moved away but Nick’s gaze was on him.

            He smiled for it and rested his forearms on the table and then leant his weight upon them, squaring his shoulders so the unbuttoned part of his dress shirt would dip down, open. “I bet I know why ya don’t talk ‘bout her.”

            “Oh, yeah?”

            “Yeah, ‘cause I’m better’n her.”

            Nick’s sour face dropped and an eyebrow lifted.

            “You know…” Ellis dropped his voice and glanced around. “In bed I mean.” And then he sat up, voice chipper, and picked up his fork. “So you forget all ‘bout her. Fine with me, I guess.”

            “Yeah, well, you’re annoying as fuck just like she was,” Nick’s voice teased.

            “Now that’s just a downright horrible lie.” The mechanic shook his head, using his fork to cut the tip of the cake off. “’Cause if I was that annoyin’ you’da left me already. An’ we been together fer like three years now, man.”

            “The camp doesn’t count.”

            “Why not? We… we did it there.”

            Nick smirked and sipped more of his wine.

            “Fine,” Ellis relented, placing the cake in his mouth. After swallowing he continued, “then we been together a little more’n two years.”

            “Longer than with my wife,” Nick admitted.

            And that helped a lot.

            Ellis moved the plate towards his senior and without debate Nick reached his own fork out to try the cake.

            The younger man watched him chew and then glanced down at the cake. And then he smiled. He took the strawberry up, pleased when a good majority of the white fluff remained atop the fruit.

            And very simply he put the berry in his mouth and sucked off the white cream. He parted his lips so that he could visibly circle the food with his tongue before offering it across the table to Nick. “Want it?”

            His lover looked from the red fruit up to blue eyes, stunned.

            Ellis smirked.

 

            The mechanic winced as his back connected with the door of their hotel. And then he winced again but refused to voice his pain when Nick slammed up against him, hips finding his immediately and teeth working at his pulse point just beneath his jaw hungrily.

            Ellis traced his hands up from where Nick held his belted hips firmly in place. He traced from the man’s knuckles to his wrists and then elbows and shoulders until he dove his fingers into the back of his lover’s slick hair and very gently pressed his fingertips in and down.

            Whether the older man realized or not his head went with the movement and the boy let his eyes close and head roll. And they stood there for several long moments, Nick attacking his neck and then his mouth and then lower to where his collarbone peaked from beneath the dress shirt. And then his hands were smoothing the jacket back and away from his shoulders, watching his young lover in the process.

            And Ellis watched him back because when Nick looked at him like that he could never think of a word to use to describe it.

            “Key,” he whispered instead.

            Nick’s hand fell away from his hip grudgingly and into his suit pocket, withdrawing the card. He flicked his wrist to slide it through the reader as fast as possible, issuing a curse when red lights glared back up at him, denying him access. He tried again, faster.

            When Ellis finally grabbed his wrist and slowed the movement green lights flashed up at them, happy to oblige. And he laughed.

            Well, for a moment anyway because in the next Nick was shoving his tongue into his mouth, slamming the door behind them and finally yanking the boy’s suit jacket off to toss it in a random direction.

            Ellis sucked on the rolling tongue, hands on the older man’s chest as he was forced backwards towards the bedroom to steady himself. Nick took them and put them at his belt buckle and then with one final sweep of the young mouth pulled back to divest himself of his own jacket.

            The mechanic unlatched the buckle of the belt fluidly and then pulled the leather from the hoops effortlessly, tossing it behind him towards the closet. Nick’s jacket joined it.

            Strong hands worked at his own, borrowed belt, but the older man didn’t bother withdrawing it, he simply slipped his hands down against the boy’s hips, fingers warm and palms hot, and the fabric seemed to melt away from them until it was a puddle on the floor encircling the boy’s ankles.

            And then his boxers followed.

            Ellis grinned against his companion’s mouth and pressed his palms to the base of his throat, trying to ward off the ravishing attack if only for a moment. In response the kisses lightened to small, gently pressure against his lower lip and then his upper lip and then where they met at the corner.

            Nick’s fingers were working at the buttons of his dress shirt which, once free and flowing, Ellis shoved away because that sweat bead from earlier was bound to make another appearance.

            When the older man’s face ducked down in order to free himself of his own pants Ellis hurried to the side of the bed and threw back the giant comforter, effectively displacing the unnecessary extra pillows and coverings. And then he lay back on the pillows, kicking away his shoes. Nick’s baggy dress shirt hung down from his shoulders and covered everything, save his now naked thighs. And very slowly he began to unbutton it.

            Nick, free of the remainder of his clothes, moved up from the end of the bed, eyes on where the mechanic’s hand had faltered with the one of the last remaining buttons. He took the button in his fingers, warding all others away, and then dipped his head low to suck on the revealed panes of his lover’s chest.

            Ellis arched up because, even though it made him feel like a woman, after three—two, however many years they wanted to claim, he knew Nick liked it. He felt the dress shirt give way against him, felt Nick’s hands moved up along his outer thighs and hips up his flanks to his chest, where his palms slid over his nipples in slow, pressing circles.

            “Yer goin’ too fast,” Ellis complained, breathless.

            “You shouldn’t have sucked off a strawberry then,” Nick muttered in between gentle kisses down the line of the stomach below him.

            The younger man grinned and lifted himself just slightly so he could watch the dark-haired head move further down until hot lips closed around him. This time, Ellis didn’t arch, but as he plopped his weight back down on the pillows behind him he spread his legs wantonly and circled his hips.

            Nick gave him two, slow sucks and then a swipe of his tongue around the base of the tip before he leaned back up.

            “Slower,” Ellis said lifting his hips, not bothering to open his eyes.

            “You shouldn’t have sucked off that strawberry,” Nick just muttered again in response.

            There was the sound of items jostling around in a briskly opened drawer and then the tight snap of it closing. And then after a few heart beats Nick moved back to him, fingers slick and cool with lubrication.

            Ellis opened his eyes as his thighs were lifted to the point where they touched his chest. He gave himself a moment to adjust to the stretch and then placed his hands at the back of his knees, watching Nick from his folded position, face and ears and chest burning.

            His lover just gave him a quirk of both eyebrows and lifted his body even further, forcing the boy up onto his shoulders and using his own chest to support his lower back. And then he reached around with one hand to slowly milk the boy while his fingers slipped slowly into the now exposed opening.

            Ellis gripped the sheets beside him as hard as he could, gritting his teeth and throwing his head to the side, humiliated and embarrassed and the weighted liquid of pure shame coursed its way up from his stomach to color his cheeks.

            “There’s that face again.” Nick pressed a second finger into his lover.

            “Yer starin’ right at me,” Ellis tried to yell but his voice cracked and shook.

            “So?” his lover questioned, breath ghosting over where his fingers slid back and forth, in and out.

            The hick reached his hand out and took one of the puffed pillows and pressed it over his face, hiding himself and his chest from sight.

            Nick chuckled above him and slipped in his third finger noisily. “You’re still hard.”

            “Shaddup!” Ellis barked, muffled by the pillow.

            The fingers within him withdrew then followed by the quick squirt of a liquid from its container and then the application of it to his lover’s erection. And when Ellis’ hips were lowered, directly onto the lap below, the slicked cock slipped slowly but without resistance into the warm cavity.

            Nick ripped the pillow out of Ellis’ grasp and threw it across the room, hitting a lamp and sending it clattering to the floor. Neither man looked over; instead the gambler thrust deep and with the new closeness leaned over his younger’s chest and forced the boy’s face to his with a tight grip on his chin. And then he kissed him, deeply and thoroughly and almost lovingly. Almost… until he nipped at the bottom lip on his way back up.

            And then they built up that rhythm that was always familiar but welcome and wanted and desired every time. Nick’s slick fingers worked at the skin of the mechanic’s dick quickly while his other traced over the smooth, pale expanse of thigh underneath it.

            Ellis couldn’t reach his lover with his hands so they immediately flew back to the sheets, crinkling and pulling them as his body rocked across them.

            “Nick.”

            The northerner grunted in response and shifted his position, taking the thigh he had been stroking up against his shoulder while his hips slammed downwards against the boy’s ass with lewd smacking sounds.

            Ellis could reach him then and he curled the fingers of his left hand around the back of his neck, wishing he could pull him further without inadvertently making himself into a folding chair. Nick responded by speeding up the motion of his hand on the boy’s cock.

            When the fingers slowed and massaged, just underneath the base of his erection’s head he gave a shuddered, shallow breath, a dip of the head, and his eyelashes ghosted over the sensitive skin just blow the curve of his eye.

            He reached up his other hand to Nick’s face, pressing his fingertips to his cheek and then up to his eyebrow and down the bridge of his nose and onto his lips. And when Nick kissed his fingers and then gently took them, just barely between his lips, the faintest of moistness greeting them, Ellis gave a deep groan and lost himself.

            The hand on his cock worked feverently, milking the streaming cum out and onto the hick’s stomach. And Ellis just lay there, brows furrowed and mouth slack, jerking back and forth across the sheets as Nick increased his thrusts and pounds until he was deeper and faster and hot and hard and then his body was tightening again and it felt like all his strength was oozing out of him with that white fluid.

            He didn’t open his eyes again until his hips were lowered. Even then he waited a moment, feeling the softening of his lover’s cock inside of him and the ever-weird movement of liquid, before he lifted his lids.

            Nick was breathing deeply and his hair was out of place but when he caught his lover’s sleepy eyes he smiled.

            “Don’t ever do that again,” Ellis ordered.

            “Which part?”

            “You know which part!”

            Ellis watched his partner’s adam’s apple bob as he chuckled. When the small laughs ebbed into silence he lifted his hips and let the softened cock slide out of him.

            Nick moved up to his side and laid against one of the pillows, eyes closing.

            “So was I right?”

            “Hm?” Nick turned his face but didn’t open his eyes so Ellis leaned over and kissed him before he repeated himself. “Right about what?”

            “About bein’ better’n yer ex.”

            “Yeah. Yeah, you were right. Now shut up.”

            Ellis complained, moving to lie on his side to elevate the pressure on his ass, though the movement had the undesired effect of forcing some of Nick’s seed out of him. He was just glad the older man couldn’t see.

            When he set upon reaching for the far corner of the sheets to clean himself Nick’s voice sounded again.

            “You know what, though? She never pulled me into pools. Or complained about dressing up nice. Or told so many goddamn annoying stories.”

            “Yeah?” Ellis asked. “She ever smother ya with a pillow after y’all embarrassed her durin’ sex?”

            Nick blinked open his confused eyes and looked over to the redneck who promptly shoved his pillow down into the stubble-lined face.


	5. God, Ellis Loves Horses

            Nick was in that moment and area of in-between-ness. It was the spot between sleep and waking. It wasn’t a place he was truly fond of, and by that he meant he absolutely hated it.

            The thirty-seven-year old preferred to be either so deep in sleep that the only way to wake him would be to smack him, as Ellis had already shown with a wrist straight to the mouth, or to be wide awake. There could be no in between because that dozing was as useless in revitalizing his body as a running a marathon would be.

            Besides the fact that the distortion during those moments unnerved him. And considering he was someone who had survived swarming masses of rotting corpses and sharp claws yearning to rip him apart, that was saying something.

            It was like everything went slower in this state, movement, thoughts, voices… It was the voices that bothered him most of all, slow and almost demonic in quality. And there was no way to move, his body was made of sand and on the verge of being paralyzed.

            And even though the voices were just the radio and his body was perfectly safe, well as safe as it could be with Ellis driving, it just never registered in his mind. He could understand everything else – that the hick was beside him and they were traveling, that they were both fine –but he couldn’t understand the voices. It was a thick blurred wall blocking any realization or connection that could alleviate his confusion.

            “Nick!”

            And thank God the kid’s voice never got distorted or warped.

            The conman raised his head, more than grateful for a rescue Ellis had no clue he’d performed and he had no interest in explaining.

            “What?”

            Ellis rolled the steering wheel to the right and slowed their speed. Beneath them the tires pulled over gravel, forcing the stones to grind and groan together. Slowly he pulled to a stop and, putting the truck into park, pointed to his left.

            Nick rubbed the sleep from his eyes and peered out and immediately groaned.

            A large wooden sign stood, cheerfully, outside the driver’s window and Ellis was pointing at it with the biggest shit-eating grin his lover had ever seen. And for that reason enough he wanted to slap it right off.

            “Buck’s mount-side horse rides!”

            “No.”

            “Aw, come _on_ ,” the hick pressed, reaching his right hand to take the older man’s sleeve. “It’ll be awesome!”

            “No.”

            “Why?”

            “I don’t ride horses.”

            “Y’all said that ‘bout swimmin’.”

            “You pulled me in the pool!” Nick reminded him, vehemence thick.

            “Please?!”

            The gambler turned onto his side, back to the southerner, and closed his eyes. “You can. I’ll wait here.”

            “No! Come on! I promise, we can do whatever ya want after. Anythin’!”

            “Anything?” Nick turned his head.

            “Sure,” Ellis said, voice low and mouth smiling, anticipating the request.

            “Foot massages for two months.”

            The hick’s look fell. “What? I said anythin’ and you pick _that_? What about…” He trailed off, squeezing his hand on the steering wheel.

            “Has to be something you don’t enjoy.”

            Ellis’ eyes searched the dashboard for a moment in thought and then he shrugged. “Okay.”

            The older man gave a sigh and reached for the handle of the door. “And backrubs.”

            “Okay!” the boy yelled, excitedly turning off the engine before practically diving out his door. “Ya might wanna getchyer jeans out, ridin’ in them pants ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

            Nick reached back to get his travel bag from behind his seat and, after a few tugs, stepped from the truck and plopped into the dusty road. He rounded towards the headlights. “…And a blowjob every morning.”

            His lover leaned over the hood of his beloved vehicle, eye crinkled with his amusement. “Thoughtch’ya said nothin’ I’d enjoy.”

            “I never said I was going to return the favor,” the gambler muttered, hands buried in his bag. He withdrew a pair of obviously new jeans and set upon replacing his dress pants with them. When he deposited the bag back in the cab of the truck and closed around he circled back around to Ellis and stuck his fingers in the pocket of the jeans. “And I hate you.”

            Ellis just kept smiling, sweetly in response. “C’mon, it ain’t that bad, man. An’ you get stuff you like way long, this’ll only be like an hour, ain’t fair at all.”

 

            “A day-long trail?!”

            “Well by day long we mean the afternoon, sir,” the clerk said, a man in dusty jeans and an equally dust plaid shirt.

            Nick glared to where his partner stood at his side. A sheepish grin met his eyes.

            “I guess we’re movin’ it up-ta three months?”

            “Four.”

            The conman grumbled from between pursed lips and withdrew his wallet before holding a plastic card to the clerk. As he signed off on the payment two sheets were slid across the counter in parallel. Nick glanced up, settling ringed fingers on the one closest to him.

            “Liability forms,” the worker said, providing the answer to the unasked question.

            “Get accidents a lot?” Nick asked, standing straight. He stopped Ellis’ wrist before the boy could eagerly sign his name.

            “No, actually. Our horses are very well trained and we don’t go faster than a trot, but rules are rules.”

            “Aw,” the hick murmured, disappointed.

            The older man frowned, searching the cowboy’s face and after several seconds dropped his eyes down to read the sheet. Generic and non-descriptive: wonderful. He glanced at Ellis.

            “Can we?” his lover asked.

            “Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever.”

            “Yes!” The boy signed off immediately and Nick followed suit, writing his name in slow cursive.

            “Great,” the clerk smiled, accepting the sheets. “We start in half an hour, you can wait right outside.”

 

            Nick watched as the workers lined several horses up, efficient and damned smelly. There were only fifteen horses or so, two for the guides, and the rest for the riders – he and Ellis, two families of three and five, and then a group of three kids, probably close to his lover’s age.

            And out of everybody Nick looked the most out of place.

            His partner on the other hand, shifting between his feet and clasping his hands together, looked like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life.

            Things like that worried the conman. Not that the kid cared for horses to such a degree, honestly Nick could give two flying shits about that. It was his lover’s naivety and maintained childish behavior and thoughts that, though endearing most of the time, had the potential to cause problems. And he didn’t mean for himself.

            Sometimes he felt that the hick had grown up in a redneck bubble of safety. With his escapades and his youth and just his damn upbeat humor Nick had to wonder if the boy had ever experienced life in the realest of senses.

            And, no, he didn’t mean the apocalypse. That was something nobody should’ve ever had had to experience and call real life. And that shit had taken its toll on everyone. But to the boy, the toll taken had been relatively small compared to the rest of their group.

            Because Ellis still talked about it, he still grinned about it, and he still claimed it had been _fun_. _“You an’ me against all them zombies, Nick. You gonna tell me that wasn’t awesome?”_

            And Nick understood that in every person’s head there were weird protective measures and the kid’s was simply not to think about darker things. The majority of his family and friends had survived and so he celebrated their lives while refusing to dwell on any deaths.

            Which was what Nick did. His own family, meaning his father who hadn’t seen in years and his stepmother, hadn’t been touched by the infection and were probably fine, sitting in their large and expensive home. And who the hell knew, or cared, where his ex was. So, he himself had no reason to think about the deaths and extreme carnage anymore.

            But that didn’t mean he ignored everything that demanded serious thought. There was plenty of shit to stress him out in normal life alone and it was those things that Ellis’ mind either glossed over or ignored altogether.

            Things like money—yeah, the kid had offered and shown his concern but Nick’s wealth wasn’t the problem. He was loaded and had more than enough stored away to do whatever he wanted without worry for the next few years. It was where he got that money from that the boy chose to ignore. Sure, Nick made sure it was a damn well-kept secret and by no means did he believe the boy selfish—rather, he was observant enough not to ask about their cash flow—but the conman worried about the moment when he would ask.

            Things like their journey—his lover was eating up every minute. And truthfully, when Nick had packed his bags that day back in Savannah, he honestly hadn’t expected the hick’s to be piled near the door, waiting.

            And as such, these stops had never been a part of his plan. Hell, his plan had been to get a cab, go to the airport and fly straight to Las Vegas and then wing it from there.

            And sometimes that pissed him off. And sometimes it didn’t.

            And then there were things like them. Like their relationship. Things that he himself didn’t understand yet expect the boy to. Because sometimes it seemed like Ellis had it all planned out, or that he had learned the conman so well that he was able to remain a subconscious step ahead at all times.

            And it had always been there, the first moment he’d kissed the boy, the sex, the gift-giving, the last not having been in his plans at all.

            But now, as they drew closer to their destination, it was like everything, every problem, had become amplified.

            For the better part of their travels he hadn’t known what the boy thought about the end of their journey or where they would end up. And then came their dinner discussion.

            Of course he had choked on his wine. The boy had seemingly planned, or expected, or assumed, whatever, that their future years would be spent together. In a house. With a white picket fence for all he fucking knew.

            And Nick had done the exact thing he had dreaded he’d do—he froze. He couldn’t think of a lie—a first for him, and he couldn’t think of the truth.

            Mainly because he didn’t know what the truth was.

            He’d been in several relationships before, some serious, the majority not, but what he had with the hick was different and even he couldn’t turn a blind eye to that. He’d been with Ellis a year longer than he’d forced himself to stay with his ex-wife.

            And Ellis was an annoying, stupid man-child, to add to that list.

            Still, he hadn’t forced him away. Sometimes, when Ellis lay beside him, mouth open, hair array, limbs strewn and just barely touching Nick, he wondered if he even could.

            Because the redneck was attached and if a zombie apocalypse, women, or the gambler’s bad attitude couldn’t deter the twenty-five year old, what could?

            A quick flash of light exploded in Nick’s face, rousing him from his thoughts. “Jesus, Overalls!”

            Ellis lowered his camera and grinned, moving close. “Let’s get one-a the two-a us!”

            The conman crossed his arms.

            “Nick, come on!”

            “What? What do you want me to do?”

            “Smile? A little?”

            Nick faked it but the mechanic seemed to accept that and hurriedly took the picture—thankfully with the stupid flash off this time—and then glanced down into the screen for the result.

            “We should get some-a these printed an’ send ‘em-ta my ma.”

            “Why?”

            “Well… I dunno,” Ellis admitted. “’Cause she’s my ma and she’d like it?”

            “I’m fairly certain I’m one of her least favorite people.”

            “Nah. She liked ya. My grandpa’s the one who hated ya.”

            “Fantastic.”

            “We should go see yer parents, too.”

            “No,” Nick said simply.

            “Why?”

            “’Cause my dad’s a dick,” he supplied.

            “Oh! So that’s where you get it from.”

            Nick’s face soured and he turned his head to his lover slowly. He was about to reach for him when the kid flounced off.

            “We’re getting’ on the horses!”

            The older man sighed, a strange mixture of a growl and tepid release of breath, and followed.

            Ellis stood next to a mostly-white horse, obviously one of the favorites of the park from the way it was groomed with a red ribbon vibrant against her white man. His lover prepared to get upon her and then stopped. And then he trotted back to Nick and shoved him forward instead.

            “What’re you doing?”

            “I wantch’ya-ta ride her.”

            “Why? What’s the difference?” Nick glanced at the brown animal that would’ve been his.

            “’Cause she’s white… an’ probably spoiled juss like you.”

            “Five months.”

            Ellis grinned and backed towards his horse. “Asides, I wanna take pictures-a ya fer proof.”

            “Whatever, fine,” Nick conceded, uncaring. With one foot in the stirrup he heaved himself up and then swung his opposite leg over the strong back to settle himself into the saddle.

            Behind him the hick’s grunt indicated the same. And then the tourist caravan began.

 

            “Hey, Nick!” Ellis called an hour into the trip. “Turn around so Ikin get a picture!”

            “No.”

            “Man, juss seein’ yer back ain’t enough.”

            “Tough,” he responded, voice tight and stern, mirroring his grip on the horse’s reigns.

            “Fine,” Ellis mumbled. He opted for taking pictures of their surroundings instead.

            Nick obviously wasn’t huge on nature but the sight of the mountains was enough to lull him into a peaceful sense of security. For the most part the guides were quiet and, save for the children, so were the other groups.

            So the northerner peered off into the distance, to where the gritty rocks morphed into emerald trees and those extended even further into the dusty blue of the mountains. And then all that was left afterwards was the sky.

            “Nick,” Ellis whispered loudly.

            “What?” He turned to look over his shoulder, mind elsewhere. And the camera clicked a second later.

            “Gotch’ya,” his lover smirked, triumphant. “You take the camera after we stop, get some-a me fer my ma?”

            “Yeah. Okay.”

            The camera clicked again but Nick had already turned back to the trail.

            He’d have to go in and delete the pictures of himself later on. Not because he cared so much that Ellis had them, but that the boy intended to pass them on and he was damn certain one of those recipients would be Rochelle.

            And with her Photoshop skills that was one person he did not want touching those photos.

            It wasn’t a big deal anyway—Ellis’ mother wanted to see her son, not the older man who had taken him away. Or turned him to the dark side, or whatever those hillbillies thought.

            Not that Ellis’ mother fell into that category. In fact, Nick actually liked her, a surprise to both himself and his younger lover. She was sweet and concerned and accepting, as a mother should be, but it was her general strong behavior and the fact that she definitely possessed the balls of the family that impressed Nick.

            Plus, he had never given her a trace of attitude—another first—but not because she didn’t have weird quirks like her son or flaws, but because he honestly respected her.

            Ellis’ grandfather on the other hand… well, having a shotgun pointed at you was just about the most clichéd moment he’d experienced in his life, and not one he was about to forgive. Besides the fact that the elderly man constantly berated the pair, visibly forcing his lover into depression and paranoia that had pissed Nick right the fuck off.

            And it hadn’t helped that his ‘friends’, that Keith and Dave and whoever the hell else, had employed the same tactic when discovering where their friend’s affections rested.

            It was at that point—when Ellis had hit him and others had mocked them both that Nick had packed his bags. And then the kid had made his choice, too.

            And he knew that the kid was right, that they’d been brought up that way, that even Ellis had his own questioning moments, that the two had gotten together rashly… yeah, okay, sure. He was aware. The truths didn’t calm the sheer fucking loathing he felt anyway.

            Because neither he nor Ellis had changed in behavior or attitude since the moment they’d met. The only things that had changed was that the boy had learned to suck a cock and take it deep, which wasn’t anybody’s damn business but his own.

            “Nick!”

            And sure, maybe some new habits had been formed, mostly in himself. And maybe he was doing shit he’d never wanted to before, and… well, dammit, it wasn’t a list he really wanted to go over.

            “Nick!”

            “What?!”

            “One more!”

            And he turned for his lover.

 

            Ellis sat across from him on the worn picnic table they had chosen once the tour had stopped for its break. In his callused hands was a sandwich which the trail had advertised. A large bite-sized chunk was already missing from it.

            Nick stared at his own lunch, sitting atop the wrappings it had come in.

            “It’s not bad,” his lover assured.

            Grunting a response the elder survivor picked up the sub and took a bite. Better than the chips and canned food of their foraging days. Points for that.

            “This is cool, right?” Ellis asked but he didn’t wait for an answer. “I mean it’s real pretty up here an’ all. An’ the horses are real good! Wish we could make ‘em gallop, though.”

            Nick remained silent.

            “This one time, me n’ Keith went with his cousin to his farm, on accounta they had horses there. Well, that was right when I decided I wanted one, y’know? ‘Cause we were ridin’ ‘em without saddles, which is damn hard, man. Anyway, Keith an’ his cousin kept getting’ thrown but my horse didn’t buck once. So I figure horses like me, too.” Ellis looked up from under his hat at Nick who was staring off, mouth chewing his food automatically, as if he couldn’t even taste it.

            “Nick?”

            His lover swallowed and sighed, setting his sandwich back down. And then he took a sip of his water bottle. “Why are you still talking about that guy?”

            “Well, ‘cause he’s my friend.”

            “Yeah,” Nick mumbled, letting it go. Upsetting the hick wasn’t exactly what he cared to do at the moment, no matter how annoyed he himself was, Ellis wouldn’t and couldn’t see his old friends in a dark light. And he guessed that was fine.

            “How come yer doin’ all this fer me?”

            “Because you wouldn’t shut up about it.”

            “Nah, nah. I mean, all of it.” Ellis’ face smoothed to seriousness. The redneck was probably the only goddamn person who’s face could do such a thing—Nick’s own face tightened when he needed something important said, like the skin was stretched taught over all the indentations and flaws of his skull. But his lover revealed himself through his face just like he did in emotion—open and readable.

            “Why’d you let me come with you?”

            Nick regarded him a moment and balanced his weight on an elbow atop the picnic table. “Ellis, why ask now of all times?”

            “Well, when’s a good time? We’re getting’ closer an’ closer-a Las Vegas.”

            The conman turned his head away to where their guides were preparing the horses. “What do you want me to say?”

            “Whatever’s in yer head,” Ellis said.

            “It doesn’t matter to me,” the gambler replied slowly. “We get to Las Vegas and we still have to drive back.”

            The young face curled, as it always did, into a smile and then ducked down from his view as it regarded its meal.

            “And I let you come because you wanted to. You’re an adult, Ellis.”

            “Okay,” the hick said. “I’m havin’ fun. Thanks.”

            “Shut up. Don’t thank me.” Because it didn’t feel right to be thanked. It felt goddamn weird. Especially when he’d just blurted out the only thing he could think of—the trip back—to put a stop to the increasing awkwardness. So he could stop the increasing questions.

            Because he had no intention of going back to Savannah.

            But, Ellis did.

            “We’re gettin’ back on the horses,” his lover announced before scarfing down the rest of his sandwich.

            Nick wrapped his own back up and deposited it in the nearest trash can as they approached the small stables where the horses had been watered.

            Half done, half to go.

            As they stood, waiting for the guides to round out the animals, Ellis pressed to his side.

            When his horse was brought out he waited there a half a beat and then stepped forward. And then he stopped at the sound of small, scuffling feet near his own. He looked down into the charming eyes of a little girl. Or, children’s eyes were supposed to be charming, he guessed. He stared into them, wanting to ask what the hell she wanted, before casting a glance at his ride.

            “You want that horse?”

            She nodded.

            “She’s all yours,” Nick conceded easily, backing up. He didn’t want to be there, let alone on a horse with a fucking bow in its hair, so the little brat could have whatever horse she wanted.

            Instead, he climbed up on a black one that shifted under his weight as he settled into the saddle. Behind him Ellis had kept his brown ride and all he could see from the hick was a face full of white teeth.

            When they started moving, however, his lover cursed softly.

            “What?”

            “I forgot-ta give ya the camera,” Ellis explained.

            “Sucks,” Nick said simply.

            “I’ll throw it to ya.”

            “You aren’t throwing your goddamn camera.” Not after how much he paid for it.

            Ellis fell silent and instead focused on the machine in his hands. When Nick glanced back at him the boy was snapping pictures of himself. Meaning they were probably going to be crappy.

            The northerner wondered, briefly, if his ex-wife had ever enjoyed stupid things like this. He couldn’t remember that she had. His new lover took everything in stride and as such was always on the look-out for the good things, the better qualities in anything he was faced with.

            And all he could remember of his ex was the bickering, the unhappiness, and very drunk nights.

            And, yeah, he got pissed at the kid quite a bit. He got pissed at a lot of people quite a bit. It was more his nature and a force of habit than actual anger, however, but it happened. Looking back, though, he mostly remembered from their time in the camp and afterwards all the smiles.

            He had to wonder if that was enough, if it was why they were still together. If that was what his former relationships should’ve been, because he could only remember one other time he’d had something like this and it sure as hell hadn’t been with his wife. It was back when he had been around Ellis’ age and he wondered if he had married that girl instead if he’d still be riding in that fucking saddle today.

            There was some sort of confession there, he realized, but if he didn’t dwell on it or make any connections he didn’t have to acknowledge it.

            Not that he had time to anyway because his hips shifted suddenly and Nick frowned because that sure as hell couldn’t be good.

            Very slowly his vision of the trail and the horse’s ass in front of him turned, lopsided and wrong. And when he looked down, and realized what was happening, it was too late, in fact his motions just seemed to speed up the entire process.

            The saddle slid to the left side of the horse, Nick still very much attached.

            Well, at least until he instinctively threw his right leg back and off, steadying it on the dirt trail below him. Unfortunately the mother fucking horse decided to take a few more steps, forcing the struggling man to hobble alongside as he attempt to divest the stirrup of his now-stubborn foot.

            Finally his foot pulled free and the next thing Nick knew he was on his ass. In the dirt. Staring at the horse’s legs. The horse that was now panicking itself.

            “Aw, fuck me,” Nick managed to mutter right before throwing his arms over his head.

            And the horse kicked back.

            He felt heavy pressure against his left leg, the stupid leg that had gotten caught in the first place. And then there was dirt billowing all around him and the horse was galloping off.

            The air hadn’t even settled when the hick ducked to his side. “Shit, man! You okay?!”

            Nick stared at him blankly. “Yeah? I’ve had worse.”

            Ellis pulled him up. “Shit, Nick. You scared the hell outta me.” He drew in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

            At first he couldn’t understand why the hick was apologizing but as he stood straight, and a heavy pressure revealed itself just below his knee, his face twisted into a grimace. And then, as the dust finally settled, so too did his shocked stupor.

            His forehead crinkled. “You fucking should be. I just got kicked by a goddamn _horse_ , Ellis! Why do I always end up fucked when we do something you want?!”

            Blue eyes widened, the sharp curves of the corners rounded. “I said sorry.”

            Nick grit his teeth because it wasn’t the idiot’s fault. Whoever fucked with his saddle was going to die, though.

            If he had just gotten on that other fucking horse… well, then that little girl or maybe one of the other miniature spawns of Satan would’ve gotten kicked in the gut.

            Fine. Whatever. Better him than them, sure. But still, the whole situation was easily one of the most ridiculous in his life.

            Their head tour guide, a thick, muscular woman trotted her horse back to them. Their other guide had followed after the escaping horse.

            “Are you alright, sir?” She was worried; more so for her job than anything else, of course.

            “I just got kicked by one of your horses, what the fuck do you think?”

            Taken aback, the woman glanced uneasily over her shoulder at her approaching partner and the culprit of Nick’s beating.

            “I’m really sorry, sir. Really, our horses don’t usually act up.”

            “Oh, gee, that means a lot right now,” Nick spat.

            “Sir, are you alright?” the male guide asked upon his arrival. He held the reins of the black animal in his hands.

            “Stop asking me that.” The conman pressed his palm to his forehead.

            “Tiger’s a little more rowdy than the other’s but he’s not a problem. He just got spooked when you jumped out of the saddle.”

            “Yeah? Know why I did that? Because I didn’t feel like sucking the horse’s—…”

            “His saddle wasn’t tight enough,” Ellis explained, hurriedly.

            The two guides glanced at each other and the man turned back to them. “Well, I’m not sure about that, we check all of them personally before we leave. But, we’ll have to wait until we’re back at the ranch to talk.”

            “I’m not getting back on the fucking thing,” Nick announced, disbelief and dry humor laced deep within his tone.

            “Nick,” Ellis sighed.

            “Well, we’re the only staff, besides our manager at the desk, sir. And he can’t leave the ranch to come up here.”

            Nick was about to unleash a slew of colorful words at the man when Ellis put his hand on his bicep, blue eyes on the children that were peering back them. So the gambler, shrugging his lover’s hand away, turned and began walking, and very shortly thereafter limping, back towards where the stables had been.

            He heard an exchange of words between his lover and the guide and then the sound of Ellis’ shoes pounding towards him. When the boy caught up he reached out to take Nick’s arm to help him along.

            Nick yanked it away.

            “…They said they’d be back in-a hour an’ a half, two at most. You sure you wanna wait?”

            The northerner didn’t respond, just sped up his limp as the picnic tables came into sight. His lover trailed behind and, when Nick plopped down on one of the benches, sat down.

            “Want me to look at it?”

            “I want you to leave me alone.”

            The hick hesitated and smoothed his palms down the thighs of his jeans before speaking again. “Sometimes horses take a deep breath, y’know? I mean, when they’re gettin’ saddles put on ‘em ‘cause they don’t like how tight they are and that gives ‘em some slack.”

            “Stop talking to me.”

            Ellis’ brows angled downwards and the bridge of his nose wrinkled. “How come yer bein’ a dick to me? It ain’t like it’s my fault.”

            “Because you won’t shut the hell up,” Nick ground out, moving his hand to his leg.

            “’Cause I wanna see yer leg? I should shut up ‘cause I wanna make sure yer okay? Shit, man, you don’t ever make any sense, do you?”

            “Not the time.”

            “When is the time, Nick?! ‘Cause yer always sayin’ that. Yer always tellin’ me one thing after another and hope I shut up. I ain’t stupid.”

            The older man stood, the movement forceful and painful all at once, and started for the stables. And Ellis followed closely behind.

            “Y’know, I’m gettin’ real sick of all this, Nick.”

            The gambler stopped and leant heavily against one of the guard rails and peered into the fresh bed of hay that lay beyond. “Yeah? Well then drop me off at the nearest airport and it’s all over.”

            His lover stopped and Nick glanced over. The boy’s stern, determined face had slackened, all bravado lost. When he noticed the green eyes he tried to force it back.

            “Thass nice. Thass real nice, Nick.”

            Sighing, the elder survivor completely turned his back to the boy, leaning his weight on the guard fence and his good leg.

            Silence befell them, interspaced with the sweet chatter of the birds and the sound of bugs humming through the air. And the rest of it was the wind rustling the leaves of the trees around them.

            “Closer we get-ta Las Vegas the more I really wonder why you let me tag along,” Ellis admitted. He had bowed his head to hide, as always, behind his hat. But Nick didn’t turn to look at him, anyway. “You say it’s ‘cause it was my decision but you wouldn’ta let me if you didn’t want me here. An’ you ain’t bored-a me, I know that. I know you ain’t.”

            Nick squared his shoulders, refusing to turn back or acknowledge the statements.

            “I juss wonder what happens when we’re done there. You said a trip back, but that’s a lie, ain’t it? You don’t wanna go back to Savannah.”

            No, he didn’t.

            “We don’t have-ta. We-kin go anywhere. Don’t matter to me. I like seein’ new things. An’ I like hangin’ wich-you. An’ when we get tired of it we can live where you wanna live.”

            Jesus fucking Christ.

            “Nick, can ya just give me a nod er somethin’?”

            So Nick nodded.

            And it didn’t work. Ellis’ chest puffed and his hands curled into tight, purely white fists, and he was silently thankful that the camera was in the hick’s pocket. And then the redneck kicked the wooden guard rail so hard it fell apart.

            Nick caught himself on the edge of the entrance to the stables just barely within reach of his hands. He turned to stare at his lover, clearly alarmed. “What the fuck, Ellis?!”

            “Yer lyin’ again!”

            “You told me to nod so I fucking nodded!”

            Ellis turned and started kicking at the still-standing fence but this part was stronger, perhaps a seemingly new addition and it only rocked and shook with the force. But the hick kept at it until his face was red and his breathing uneven.

            After a few deep gulps of air he held out his hands, almost in offering. “What d’you want, Nick? I left all my friends and family.”

            “I didn’t ask you to--…”

            “I know ya didn’t! But you kin at least pretend like ya know why I did it! You kin at least care fer once!” He paced in a circle. “You kin tell me stories about you er something. Something I know an’ nobody else does, like you know stuff about me. Like I tell you stuff.”

            “How’s that supposed to work? I’m lucky if I even get a word in half the--...”

            “I ask all the time!” Ellis interjected.

            “Stop fucking interrupting me,” Nick growled.

            “No!” The hick glared, hard, and the conman actually felt struck. “Because all yer arguments, anythin’ yer gonna say is _bullshit_. You an’ I both know it! Yer treatin’ me just like everyone else an’ it ain’t supposed-ta work that way! Why can’tchya go one day without giving me shit?”

            Nick didn’t respond and his lover watched him expectantly. “Oh, sorry, my turn now? Actually gonna let me speak?”

            Ellis groaned and stepped away, kicking a rock that pattered over the dusty path to bounce off the trunk of a tree. After a few seconds he was out of sight.

            And the conman released a shaky breath, clearly shaken by the boy’s outburst. Sure, he’d had them before, but damn. Warily he shuffled around so he could lean his back against the wall he had clung to. And then he crossed his shaking arms and watched the spot where the hick had disappeared.

            Several fast seconds beat past, and he guessed that was his heart calming down, and then long moments stretched, and then his footsteps were the only thing Nick could hear, retracing their steps back towards him.

            Nick watched, silently.

            Ellis’ hat was twisted in his hands and his eyes were on the ground. “We should look at-chyer leg.”

            And the northerner actually laughed. Because the kid probably thought the entire thing was his own fault. Nick knew better. Was he going to apologize? No. Getting kicked by a horse definitely pulled out his asshole-mode. But he wasn’t and couldn’t be pissed at the hick anymore. He reached out towards his lover who took his arm.

            “We’ll sit in there, I probably need to take these off,” he muttered, nodding to his jeans.

            Ellis led him into the clean hay stack and sat down with him on the strewn and dislodged contents against one of the bales. Nick frowned and, not wanting to attempt to roll up the pant of his leg and annoy the injury any further, began to push the denim down his hips and then very carefully over his knees so it could bunch at his ankles. He turned just slightly and sighed at the sight.

            His knee itself was fine but just below that was drastic reddening. Compared to his other leg, that one section had ballooned at least twice its normal size. And if he had any bets placed he’d give himself half an hour before it started to bruise.

            “Thass pretty nasty,” Ellis said.

            “Thanks for that input,” Nick said, managing to keep the venom from infecting his words.

            The hick slowly eased himself over the older man’s legs so he could sit on the opposite side. He peered closely at the wound. “Could-a been worse. Could-a been broken.”

            “I think if I can run away from zombies with a couple cracked ribs I’ll be fine.” He paused and then pressed a smirk. “I mean, my pride won’t be for a while, but other than that…”

            Ellis curved his lips to himself and nodded his head, and then placed his hand just below where the swelling began. “I’m sorry.”

            “Whatever, kid. You were right: it’s not your fault. Just shitty luck.”

            “No,” he mumbled. “I mean about afore.”

            Nick was going to tell him to shut up. Nick needed to change the topic. Because Nick wanted to apologize, too.

            “I don’t want to go back to Savannah, you’re right,” he said instead.

            Ellis looked up at him and then back down. “Then we don’t hafta.”

            Nick shook his head and sighed. “I don’t want to go back because I hate your friends and your grandfather.”

            “What about my ma?”

            “Sweetest woman I’ve ever met,” he admitted readily. And she’d taught her son well, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

            The hick smiled, faintly, and leaned close so their arms pressed together. “Then we’ll only go back fer Christmas.”

            Nick frowned.

            “I gotta see my ma fer Christmas,” Ellis said. “But we only have to stay fer two days, okay? My grandpa just ain’t used-ta…”

            “Queers?” Nick almost sneered the question.

            “Same fer Keith an’ Dave.”

            “That I can forgive. You inbreds are severely brain-washed.”

            Ellis stared at Nick’s leg and then drew his eyes upwards. “Sometimes I don’t wanna go to Las Vegas.”

            “What?” The gambler balked. Then he remembered to hinge his jaw. “What are you talking about?”

            The redneck shrugged his broad shoulders and picked up a piece of hay which he began dissecting with his fingers. Nick watched the way his eyelashes curled against the backdrop of his skin.

            “Why?” Nick pressed. “Money? Gambling? Shows? Strippers? Alcohol?”

            Ellis shook his head, unafraid of the things they had already faced. Though he was probably still pissed about the whole strip-bar scenario. He picked up a new piece of yellow stalk and began peeling that apart as well. “None-a those.”

            “Then what?”

            “…Ain’t that where yer ex lives?”

            Nick laughed long and hard, eventually drawing his lover into the drawn out rhythm as well. Very slowly he placed his arm about the other man’s shoulders and drew him close.

            “I’d be scared of that, too, if I were you.”

            Ellis grinned at him. “I figure she’s worse than-a witch.”

            “Yeah?”

            “An’ I bet she’s real skinny an’ kinda scary lookin’.”

            “Dunno, haven’t seen her in a couple of years.”

            The kid watched his face. Nick frowned and looked away, tempted to withdraw his arm as well. When he looked back Ellis was still looking at him, quietly, naïve patience returned to the gaze.

            “I divorced her five years before I met you, Overalls.”

            His lover remained silent, the verge of a smile on the corners of his lips.

            “…She was just a bitch, I told you that before,” Nick continued, hoping that would be enough, but those eyes just kept watching him. So he gave his chin a rub and leant back against the bale behind him heavily. “She stole money from me. And cheated on me. Stuff like that.”

            “You cheated on her, too?”

            “She started it.”

            “Real mature, man.”

            Nick shrugged. “I never said I didn’t have a part in it.”

            “Why’d you marry her?” Ellis asked, venturing forth enough to press his luck.

            And Nick’s was down on his so why not humor the redneck’s?

            “Because I knocked her up and we’d been dating for a while. Seemed like what I had to do.”

            His lover sat bolt upright, mouth slightly open. “You have a kid?”

            “No. Miscarriage.”

            “Oh,” the hick said, lamely, embarrassed by his brash, excited outburst. He settled back against the older man. “Is… that one-a the reasons you left her?”

            “One,” Nick admitted. Before his lover had a chance to show any disgust he squeezed his fingers against the indent of his collarbone. “She was doing shit…” And he trailed off, because how could he talk about something he’d left behind almost eight years ago? How could he possibly tell the hick who had no clue what it was like to be married, to have the chance to be a father and fix yourself… and then have all of that ripped away? To have been so uncharacteristically excited about it and then be denied?

            Because it was one of the things in the world that upset Nick far more than it pissed him off.

            Ellis didn’t ask or stress the issue, he just glanced at the man beside him and then let out the smallest of chuckles. “Ain’t that hard, is it? I shut up.”

            “Yeah. Keep doing that.”

            “What about yer parents?”

            Not that he had expected him to keep quiet. Nick rubbed his chin again. “My dad and my step-mom live near Chicago.”

            “Why didn’t we go see ‘em?”

            “…I don’t know,” the conman answered honestly. “I didn’t think about it.”

            Ellis leant forward, pressing his elbows to the top of his knees as he peered out of the stables. Then he leant back and rolled his head to the side towards Nick’s.

            “I really gotta do four months?”

            “Five.”

            The redneck traced his fingers over the curve of his brim slowly, eyes on his lover’s leg. He shrugged and shifted, the hay hissing around his hips as they moved. Very gently he took Nick’s wounded leg atop his own two. And even slower he began to untie the laces.

            Nick watched, amused.

            “We got time-ta kill anyway,” Ellis commented, setting the shoe aside before taking his socked-foot in his hands. He pressed the balls of his thumbs against the firmer contours and pressed and rolled the padding there.

            The older man tilted his head, watching the way the hick’s knuckles lightened as he worked the foot in his grasp. Ellis lifted the foot a little higher so he could put more of his arm strength into the touches, forcing his lover to conceal a wince.

            It’s not that his leg hurt so fucking bad that he wanted to chop it off, but it was sore as hell already. He leaned forward and pressed his fingers against the swollen skin, frowning away the pain so he could press harder.

            “Stop that, man. Yer gonna infect it.”

            “If it’s not open it’s not going to get infected, idiot,” Nick retorted. Very gently he bent his knee away from the boy and replaced his good leg in the now vacant spot.

            Ellis removed the shoe and obediently continued. “What’re you gonna say to the manager?”

            “Besides ‘give me my fucking money back’?”

            “We signed them sheets, they ain’t gonna give us a refund.”

            “We signed sheets saying it wasn’t their fault if the horses acted up,” Nick agreed. “But my saddle wasn’t on right and you saw it. So whose fault is that?”

            “Theirs?”

            “Good boy,” the gambler mocked, watching the working hands. He tried to relax as best he could back against the hay to enjoy the massage. Sure, he’d gotten a back massage at the spa but a good foot rub was something he hadn’t had in years.

            Ellis looked up at him, lips parted in a look Nick would only attribute to hicks. And then the boy dropped his foot against his thigh gently and dug into his pocket. Even as he withdrew the camera his fingers were working at the buttons. After several seconds he turned the tiny machine towards his partner. “Yer gonna be mad.”

            “What else is new?” Nick asked, taking the offered gadget.

            “Press the ‘OK’ button.”

            The conman did so and the picture on the scene, of him on a horse, moved. “You fucking taped me? You little shit.”

            “Yeah, well…”

            And then he was watching himself struggle from the horse and then strong, powerful legs kicking back.

            “That’ll get the money back,” Ellis grinned across their legs at him and took up his foot to start rubbing again.

            Nick shifted his gaze back to the tiny screen before him and then his lover again. And then once more back to the camera. He pressed a button with his thumb and the screen reverted back to a reflection of the world, as it was at that precise moment.

            He raised his arm and pressed the button atop the machine, eliciting a tiny click from it. Ellis’ head snapped up and he frowned

            “Man, nobody wants-ta see yer feet.”

            “I want to see you rubbing my feet,” Nick smirked.

            The hillbilly however, didn’t smile back, instead he dropped his target again and reached out. “Give my camera back.”

            “I’m sorry, your camera?” his lover asked, holding it back, although the kid couldn’t reach it from where he was anyway. “Who paid for it?”

            “Nick,” Ellis said, aiming for chiding but falling short by way of his gentle, playful manner.

            “What?” Nick snapped another. And then he turned the camera and took another. “You’ve been taking pictures of yourself all day. What’s the difference if I do it?”

            “Yer wastin’ my memory,” the redneck tried. Very carefully he shifted free of the older man’s legs and began to move forwards on his hands and knees to retrieve his stolen device.

            “Oh, I like that,” Nick purred, pressing the button down.

            Ellis flushed deep and shoved his hand out, fingers grazing the silver siding as his lover hefted it in the air above his head. With his other hand the northerner gripped his chin and pulled him closer, forcing the boy’s jeans to scrape beneath the hay to the ground underneath to comply.

            And very slowly Nick kissed him, lips pursed just slightly with the softest of pressures.

            Turning his head, Ellis shuffled his legs closer, drawing the hay around the older man’s hips that he readily straddled.

            The hand on his chin moved very slowly, up his cheek, fingers resting in its curve before moving further to dispose of the hat, which he tossed across the room into another hay pile. And then he pressed the pads of his fingers against the warm neck.

            And Ellis followed them, kissing across the rugged jaw line to the curve towards his ear and lower to his pulse. His hands, which had been supporting him on the ground, moved up with the freedom allowed by the upright position to ghost over the dress shirt adorning the elder survivor. Very slowly his fingers worked at the buttons causing his mouth to become unsteady and raw in its movements against the throat beneath it.

            Nick smiled to himself and turned his head to the side, to where his arm lay, camera still tight in hand. He flipped it, settling his thumb on the large, round button instead and pressed down. The click was enough to draw the boy out of his maneuvers.

            “Don’t,” he almost pleaded.

            The wounded man shook his head and snapped another. “Five months starts now, Overalls.”

            “I didn’t say you could take pictures.”

            “And I didn’t say you got to call any of the shots.” He drew the boy close with a pull to his tattooed bicep and touched their mouths together again.

            When they parted his let his free arm drop away, hand moving to pull his now unbuttoned dress shirt open. His lover watched him a moment, displeased. But against Nick’s stomach his erection was hard. And against his chest the boy was warm.

            “Ease back.”

            Ellis did so, very carefully moving his weight to the strong thighs beneath him so he could duck his head down to press sloppy kisses against the lines of Nick’s collarbone and further between his pectorals.

            Nick took another picture.

            This time his lover’s curly head didn’t bounce back up, but there was a deep, embarrassed exhale of breath against the skin of his chest. And then another and then the lips were back, alternating with teeth and a wet trail of tongue down the dip of his stomach.

            He brought the camera nearer to his own face so he could capture the majority of the scene before him in the screen and pressed the button.

            Ellis paid no mind this time, instead he slid his hands from the older man’s sides to his hips and then began to move them inwards.

            “No.” Nick said, halting the boy’s movements.

            The hick didn’t look up, understanding immediately. He smoothed them back outwards against the soft material, feeling the bones of his partner’s hips underneath.

            He pressed the button again.

            Carefully, with his nose, Ellis attempted to force the hole of Nick’s boxers apart. And then he lifted his head just barely and stuck his tongue inside.

            Click.

            After a few moments he reached his hand up to trace the outline of the older man’s cock through the fabric, directing it out of the hole and into his mouth. And then his cheeks hollowed and jaw widened and eyes shut.

            Nick put his hand in the boy’s hair and lifted his hips just barely, which, considering his knee, was as far as he could anyway.

            Click.

            The callused fingers worked him through the fabric and that non-stop waggling tongue pressed against his cock, wet and hot and slick and fast. And then his lover began to suck, relaxing his hold just so the full head remained within the suction.

            The gambler grunted, just barely, spreading his legs a little further, wanting to jerk up into the kid’s mouth, though he’d never do that, even if he wasn’t practically immobile.

            Ellis’ lids lifted and the orbs rolled up to rest on Nick’s face. And they were almost blindingly blue against the red hue of his cheeks and forehead and shoulders.

            Click.

            The hick shut his eyes immediately, eyebrows folding upwards giving him the painfully arousing expression of both pleasure and shame. His cheeks hollowed again and his neck dipped and his mouth accepted more of Nick’s erection, deep and warm and sloppily effective.

            Click.

            Ellis raised his head and let the cock slip from between his plump, darkened lips. “Stop it.”

            “No,” Nick said, almost apologetic. He traced his hand around to press his thumb just underneath his swollen bottom lip and took another picture.

            And then he pressed his lover back down to engulf him once again.

            And he didn’t know how long it had been or how many pictures he had taken when the camera finally fell out of his hands and he was rolling his hips and twisting curled hair and arching his back because he was unable to thrust up. And then he was shaking and shuddering and murmuring Ellis’ name in belated warning.

            The redneck lifted up slowly and Nick watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. And he fucking wished he hadn’t dropped the stupid camera.

            Ellis shifted his legs and eagerly pulled down the zipper on his own jeans, fully intent on shoving his hands into the front of them before his wrist was caught by the elder man.

            The kid might not have had the same hygiene-obsessions he had but goddammit if he was going to touch his fucking dick after those horses.

            Nick nodded his nose towards the ceiling. “Stand up.”

            His lover obeyed immediately and the gambler sat up as straight as possible. He trailed his hands up the younger man’s thighs, forcing them apart so that his mouth faced the crotch of Ellis’ pants. He raked them up and then down shortly after, dragging the denim down with them. And as the hick had done for him, he fished the younger man’s cock out of the boxers and enclosed his mouth over it.

            Ellis breathed out, his voice low beneath the airy cover and slowly pressed his hips forward. Like Nick he never thrust his hips unless he was advised to. Like Nick he opted for rolling his hips and staying still. And like Nick in these instances he waited to be pleasured.

            His older lover’s hands moved then, from the sides of his hips back to his ass, gripping the soft flesh there and spreading his cheeks apart.

            “Nick.”

            The mechanic folded backwards, curving his back and stomach, dislodging his dick from the wet met and effectively pressing back into the demanding hands.

            Nick pushed him forward again, closing his eyes as he resumed his ministrations at the hard organ pulsing against his tongue. And his fingers continued to knead and spread and pull the boy’s flesh, forcing a subtle rocking motion.

            And then there was a soft snap above him so he opened his eyes and looked up. To where Ellis had the camera pointed back at him.

            His lover smiled sheepishly and pressed the button again, mouth opening in a taunt.

            And Nick pressed his fingers against the boy’s opening and gave a hard suck.

            Ellis gave a rare, audible groan and the camera patted next to Nick on the soft gay.

            And the breathing above him increased and the hips jerked and the strong legs tightened and beneath his fingers the boy’s opening _pulsed_.

            At the first string of cum the conman jerked back, stupidly, catching the next few spurts across his lips and chin.

            And then the southerner crumpled down against him, somehow managing to check his weight before settling himself in his older lover’s lap. Nick reached up to wipe his lover’s seed from his mouth and face, swiping the dirtied hand against the hay beneath them.

            And then Ellis’ mouth was on his, sloppy and wet and emotional, as it always was after the kid’s orgasm. Nick usually pretended it was a thank you, even though the soft massage of lips and the caressing motion of hands screamed otherwise.

            He curled his arms around the mechanic’s waist as the panting mouth moved from his, forearms angled up his back and hands searching the muscles there.

            “Thoughtch’ya said you weren’t gonna do it back,” Ellis whispered, breath oddly sweat considering what they’d just done.

            “Starting tomorrow, then.”

           

            The hick hopped down from where he had been sitting on the hood of his truck waiting for his lover to return from the small ranch house. Nick crossed to him, slowly and jerkily, and held up the camera.

            Ellis took it. “Didjya get the money back?”

            Nick smirked. “It’ll be back on my card by tomorrow.”

            The mechanic laughed and crossed over to the driver’s side, opening the door for the older man. He moved to help him into the truck but a stubborn hand shoved him away.

            “I got it.”

            “Want me-ta drive?”

            “So you can find a goddamn petting zoo or something next? No. You’re not driving anymore.”

            As they pulled away and back onto their determined path Ellis looked down at his camera, playing the footage again and again. And then he flicked to the pictures. And with each press of his thumb his cheeks darkened, even in the dim light of beckoning night.

            Nick smirked. “The manager told me to let you know you have a pretty mouth, by the way.”

            Ellis dropped his head in his hands.


	6. God, Ellis Loves Cars

            He’d driven them to Salt Lake City. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he’d headed north instead of just going south straight into Las Vegas. Because really, nothing in Salt Lake interested him. He’d been there before. Ellis hadn’t, but it wasn’t as if the hick had mentioned a word about the city. He hadn’t asked and yet Nick had driven there.

            He’d stopped, gotten a hotel room, and now here they were, walking down the streets, looking around like the tourists they were.

            Well, the kid was looking around. Nick’s face was buried in a tourist pamphlet he’d gotten from their hotel.

            Ellis let out a loud yawn and the conman looked over to receive that all-too-welcome grin. He tried to form his own in apology.

            His lover had gotten maybe two hours of sleep before Nick had pulled into the city. By the time they got to the hotel he could up that count to two hours and a half, maybe. And when he’d told the kid to catch up on his sleep he’d been refused, denied, and then physically pulled out the door and into the daylight.

            And of course the first thing that had caught those soft blue eyes was the Salt Lake temple in the distance. Because a giant religious building was exactly what Nick had wanted to see.

            As they moved closer to the sharp building Ellis broke out into a trot, stopping only at the edge of the grandiose fountain that lay in front.

            “Look at this place!” he exclaimed, opening his arms wide as if to frame it. “It’s like we’re in Europe er somethin’.”

            Nick stopped a couple feet away from him and placed his hands in his pockets, tilting his head back just slightly to watch the jets of the fountain as they licked the sky. When he looked back down Ellis was beside him in a similar stance, head back and face squinted against the bright daylight.

            “What’s it for?”

            “Mormon temple,” the conman supplied, turning to face his companion.

            “Looks like somethin’ built forever ago,” Ellis murmured, cupping his hands over the brim of his hat. When he turned to Nick he smiled, quickly, and slid his hands back to the top of his head. “Wanna get a picture?”

            The older man held out his hand.

            “No, we both gotta be in it,” the hick informed him, swatting his hand away even as his head swiveled back and forth.

            “You are NOT asking--…”

            “S’cuse me!”

            Nick grunted and watched the hick approach a couple of girls probably two or three years younger than the redneck himself. The conman watched the two smile at each other, one blush, and both giggle before the calmer of the two actually took the camera from his lover’s hand. Ellis thanked her, literally, five times before rushing back to the older man’s side.

            “Ya gotta actually smile fer this one, Nick.”

            Nick looked down at the kid and then swiped the blue and white cap from his head. “This is for your mother. Stop looking like a bum.” And then very gingerly he placed his arm around the hick’s shoulders and drew him close, turning his face towards the girls so he wouldn’t have to see his partner’s reaction.

            But he felt it all the same as a strong and eager arm wrapped around his waist in response.

            Their photographers giggled at them and raised the camera and Nick forced his mouth to remain curved. But he wondered if Ellis hadn’t met him, if the world hadn’t gone to shit, would he have picked a girl, like the cute, red-faced one?

            And when the mechanic went to the duo to thank them the gambler remained there, watching the way Ellis rubbed the back of his head and crinkled his eyes in exuberance at them and their words. And he wondered, even though they had met and the world had lost itself, whether or not he would have picked a girl like her if Nick had just said no. If he hadn’t kissed him, taken him, kept him…

            Would he still choose a girl like her?

            It wasn’t a thought he had often and the fact that it had even risen, unbidden, once again pissed him off. So naturally he walked away from the source, circling around the fountain and the bed of roses that hugged alongside it.

            After gaining a considerable distance he turned and waited, arms folded, for his fellow survivor whose head was still bouncing in rhythm with the most likely endless stream of words spilling from his mouth.

            Nick knew he didn’t need to convince himself of anything.

            He was stuck with Ellis. They’d both made their choices.

            And Ellis’ choices came with sacrifices and he lost more than his cheery façade could hide.

            There were times, when Nick had gone to get ice or to retrieve a toothbrush because the boy didn’t want to miss a television show or because he’d ‘forgotten’ his at their last hotel, that he’d return the door to their shared room and hear the slow drawl, quiet and unsure.

            He couldn’t remember ever hearing the hick’s voice like that, not when they were together anyway. Even when he’d faced down his grandfather’s judgment he’d done it with that same smile and lightheartedness that made the gambler wonder if the kid even realized what he was admitting to a southern, Roman Catholic who just so happened to be brandishing a shotgun.

            And when Nick had hovered his head closer to the thin wood, when he’d shut his eyes and strained to concentrate on the words, he realized Ellis was talking to his mother. And he was talking about how he missed her. And how he missed his grandfather. And how he missed his friends. And how, no, he couldn’t call them. How he’d tried. How they’d hung up after his greeting.

            He would cough or clear his throat and the hick’s voice would instantly pick up, the call would end, and Nick would enter the room to bright eyes and loud words about how his loving mother was doing. And he knew they were all lies.

            It felt weird, to be ashamed of lies that weren’t even his.

            Heavy boots slapped against the pavement as Ellis hurried back to his side, holding the camera up. “Wanna see?”

            “No,” Nick said, turning so he could continue walking towards the temple with his arm held out so Ellis could recover his hat.

            His lover shrugged, took his covering, and then rounded his shoulders up to lift his arms and elevate his camera’s face towards the gothic building.

            The conman just opened his pamphlet back up.

            “It’s kind of scary, huh?” Ellis asked as they neared the entrance.

            “How?”

            “I don’t know,” the slow voice admitted. “I’ve seen pictures like this afore in my history books n’ stuff. I don’t like ‘em. They’re… I dunno… It’s like they’re too dark to be somethin’ fer God. Right?”

            “I wouldn’t know,” Nick answered, but he looked up through his lashes at the sharp, intimidating spires and evenly spaced arches.

            “It juss looks _pointy_ ,” the hick stated, nodding to affirm his own statement. “I think God wants somethin’… softer. Maybe that’s why back in the day they had them plagues an’ stuff an’ that’s why he’s nicer-ta us.”

            “Yeah. Zombie apocalypse. Real nice. God’s an asshole.”   

            “Nick! We’re still alive, how can ya say he ain’t nice?”

            And he wanted to tell the boy that a nice God wouldn’t have killed off a large portion of the world’s population. He wanted to tell him that a nice God wouldn’t have unleashed diseased, mutated men upon each other. A nice God wouldn’t have forced them to kill those people. A nice God wouldn’t have moved them into those camps. A nice God wouldn’t have let some old redneck point a shotgun at his face.

            A nice God would make sure the kid could talk to said old man, and his friends, without having to worry about revolted voices and biting words.

            But he didn’t tell him, instead he just shrugged and turned his face to the side, offering his profile. Because it shouldn’t have mattered to the conman, anyway. They weren’t his problems. They were Ellis’ and Ellis never mentioned them. Therefore it was none of his goddamn business.

            So he kept his mouth shut.

            “Ya wanna picture by the flowers?”

            “No.”

            “I think it’d be nice.”

            “Congratulations. I think it’d be gay and not something you’d want to send home.”

            Ellis shook his head and regarded the flowers. “Ain’t gayer than two guys makin’ out.”

            “If you’re talking about back in Savannah it was your fault you didn’t lock the door. And his fault for not knocking.”

            “I thought we were gonna give ‘em a heart attack,” the hick said, amused.

            Nick plucked the camera from the mechanic’s hand and with a couple button-presses flicked through the photos. “Hey, where are mine?”

            “I got rid of ‘em, you pervert,” Ellis readily admitted.

            “What? Completely? Oh, come on, kid.”

            “They’re on yer laptop.”

            “Still,” Nick murmured, holding the gadget up between his fingers, “it was like portable porn, and you had to go and ruin it.”

            Ellis’s ears tipped pink. He reached to grab the small machine and then shoved it into his pocket. “Would you shaddup? That ain’t the way to be speakin’ in fronta God.”

            The conman balked then looked to the building, then back to his lover, and then to the temple once again. “It’s not God.”

            “It’s-a house-a God,” his lover corrected himself, gently. “Meanin’ he can hear what’s goin’ on out here real easy.”

            Nick followed the hillbilly as he walked closer.

            “I thought you said it was too ‘pointy’ for God.” When that paced accent didn’t respond he continued, “Looks more like a place for demons.”

            “Nick, man,” Ellis said, lowly, turning back to him. “Yer gonna get struck by lightnin’.”

            The older man laughed, loudly and huskily, as if the sounds scratched and clawed at his throat before clapping out into the air. And very slowly Ellis grinned back.

            “Well,” Nick breathed, after regaining his composure, “then I won’t push my luck. Let’s go do something else.” He held up the pamphlet for his lover to inspect.

            Taking it gently, the hick’s eyes moved over the page slowly. “…They have a car museum?!”

            “Seems like it’s a classic car show,” Nick stated. “Good way to kill a day.”

            “You think they need any of ‘em fixed up?”

            “No.”

 

            There were a lot of things in the world that made Ellis smile. There a lot of things that excited him. And there were a lot of things that he would talk about endlessly, even if they had happened three years ago in a burning hotel. _“Remember when ya got that jumpin’ Hunter ‘tween the eyes with a magnum!”_

            But if there was one thing Nick knew, hell that anyone who had met the redneck knew, he loved cars. Guns and cars: that was Ellis. And probably every backwater hick in the world.

            Truthfully, this option, against the museums and shops and anything else they could’ve done, appealed to the conman as well. Sure, he liked new cars that were sleek and fast, but looking at old ones didn’t seem like a complete waste of day. Or maybe that was just part of being a man.

            Either way he slapped down the twelve dollar fee for the both of them and let his young lover pull him in.

            “Lookit!” The weight on his wrist relaxed and then disappeared as the mechanic rushed over to the first display: a carriage. “They got stuff from afore, too.”

            Nick weighted himself on a leg and watched the hick circle around it, face curious.

            “This is gonna be awesome,” the boy announced. “I can already tell.” He shuffled onto the next display and the gambler hurried to keep up, surprised that he wasn’t being dragged along as usual.

            The further they walked and the further the cars aged the more stories and information Ellis provided, leaving Nick dumbfounded and silent. Sure, the kid was a mechanic so by a lot of rights he was supposed to know about cars but the fact that his knowledge extended back into cars that were hard-pressed to find driven around anymore was exceedingly impressive.

            Because he could safely bet the kid hadn’t had his hands on any of the older cars on display.

            But he followed along, attentive and when the kid fell silent he asked questions. He didn’t know why he asked them considering the mechanic was blissfully quiet on his own for once, a moment he should’ve been relishing not ruining. But the hick’s eyes flashed and his answers were quick and precise and excited so Nick didn’t let it bother him too much.

            When they started passing more cars the conman could name and either agree or argue about with his lover the younger man fell into the habit of only speaking once Nick asked a question. And unfortunately since he was aware of most of the models he had to ask questions about the engine and speed and whatever the hell else he could pull out of his ass.

            And Ellis was blabbering on about the engine of a red, ’59 Coupe Deville when he stopped suddenly, mid sentence, and pointed. Nick didn’t have the time to follow the digit’s direction, however, because his partner quickly rushed away.

            Nick wrinkled his nose at his lover who stood, arm outstretched to display the car next to him: a ’60 Chevrolet El Camino, with a gaudy paint job of purple flame-like strips stretching over the front of the yellow backdrop.

            “Ellis, that’s tacky as hell.”

            “Well, that’s ‘cause it was restored, Nick,” the hick said, matter-of-factly. “An’ I knew you’d say that.”

            Stopping at the younger man’s side, Nick peered inside at the yellow, leather seats that rested within. And then he leant back and rested his eyes on the price tag that lay against its windshield, almost twenty-three thousand.

            Ellis circled around it once and then stopped at the hood. “Think they put a new engine in her, too?”

            “How should I know?”

            The mechanic rested his hands on the front of the car, glancing over his shoulder.

            “Go ahead, Overalls,” Nick encouraged, smirking. “The worst they can do is taser your ass which is something I’d pay good money to see.”

            Ellis glared blue steel at his lover but opened the hood anyway and disappeared behind it.

            Nick wondered, briefly, how many times he’d been goaded in similar ways by his idiotic friends back home. And how many of those times had ended up in unnecessary wounds and scars.

            A toned arm waved out from behind the hood for Nick. “They didn’t! Original engine, man.”

            The northerner walked towards the beckoning hand and let himself be yanked down to eye-level with the hick to peer at the twisting metal.

            “See this here?” Ellis tapped his fingers against one tube whose function Nick honestly couldn’t remember so he nodded for his lover to continue. “This--…”

            “Excuse me!”

            Well, that lesson would probably have to wait, he decided as he stood pulling the kid up by the collar of his shirt so that they could step out of the way. An older man, maybe late fifties, shoved the hood back down and gave them a huff. “If you’re looking to buy you should’ve come to ask one of us for help.”

            Nick slid his hand up to cup the back of Ellis’ neck before shaking the muscular body gently. “Kid’s a mechanic. It was either look under the hood or cum in his pants.”

            “Nick!”

            The employee stared, confused and unable to form a reply. So the conman let Ellis’ smile speak for the both of them and moved on.

            “You gotta stop sayin’ stuff like that to strangers,” Ellis said from underneath where the older man’s arm rested across his shoulders. He tried to glance back over it at their scolder. “Y’all might say it to the wrong person.”

            “Noted,” Nick replied, perturbed by his lover’s submission. He supposed he shouldn’t have been, considering the things the kid had done for him in the past that he was sure went against the hick code of conduct. But, still, the kid could just relax for a goddamn moment instead of worrying about God and other people to care about himself. Just for once.

            The kid prattled on for several more minutes as they walked, well until Nick stopped anyway forcing them both to a mutual halt. And then Nick stepped around him and with both hands on his lover’s shoulders directed the boy to the left.

            “If we’re buying anything, this is it,” the older survivor announced. He let his hands slip away as he approached his choice: a red ’77 T-Top Corvette.

            Uncaring if there was an employee watching he slid his fingers along its body gently, resting it in the open window as he poked his head inside. When he leaned back out Ellis was standing beside him, arms crossed and features bemused.

            “Red seats… I guess we can always get that changed,” Nick murmured, leaning around to glance at its price, a few hundred less than the El Camino had been which was a price he was more than willing to pay.

            “Nick,” Ellis grinned. “You don’t even know her miles.”

            “Hey, you fell in love with that stupid Jimmy Gibbs car, don’t be a hypocrite.”

            The hick shook his head and looked the car over and then he looked down at the chrome wheels. “Well, she is purdy.”

            “Purdy?”

            “Pretty,” Ellis corrected quickly at his lover’s grin.

            “Look under the hood,” Nick ordered, nodding towards it.

            And the hick didn’t hesitate. He lifted it and ducked his head down, not bothering to call the northerner to his side as he poked and prodded at the engine. After a few moments he stood and closed the car back up. “They polish these things right up-ta show off. We should ask fer a test drive.”

            Nick glanced around the garage-museum quickly, trying to locate an employee who wasn’t the same asshole from before, without much luck. Instead his vision fell back upon his lover who was leaning against the car, a patient, happy look to his face.

            And sure, Nick was loaded, but he wondered how far that money would get them. And then he caught himself wondering how much a decent house would cost.

            And then he sighed and shook his head, rolling his wrist to call the boy back to his side. When his lover approached he forced him onwards, further into the museum. “Next time. Should save the money for Vegas.”

            Ellis glanced back at him, words on his mouth, but Nick was already asking about another car.

            Again, after teaching his lover about things he probably wouldn’t remember in the morning anyway, the boy pulled from his reach, yet again, and sprinted, yes sprinted in a goddamn museum, further down the displays. And when he stopped and bent down to look at his next choice Nick couldn’t really blame him. He walked up to the ’69, red Jaguar and gave his own whistle of approval.

            Without any hesitance Ellis popped open the hood and stuck his head down much to the conman’s further approval.

            After several long, silent moments, the mechanic gave a content sigh and looked back at Nick, almost dreamily. “Nick. Racin’ engine. She’s gotta V-8 racin’ engine.”

            The thirty-seven-year-old grinned. “And?”

            “An’a turbo booster. Four barreled carburetor…” The blue eyes ran over the red paint adoringly and his rough hands followed the path laid out for them.

            Nick circled around the car very slowly, admiring the tan leather seating within. As he approached the hood he let his eyes drift to the price tag.

            “It’s a nice looking car,” he said, low and gravelly, watching for his lover’s reaction.

            “Nice lookin’ ain’t the halfa it,” Ellis snorted in retort.

            “She’s not as expensive as I thought; sure there isn’t something wrong with her?”

            “Quiet, Nick, she might hear ya. An’ there ain’t nothin’ wrong with this girl, an’ if there was I would fix ‘er in a heartbeat.”

            The older traveler nodded, bringing his fingers up to rub his chin, regarding the car thoughtfully. Ellis carefully clamped the hood back into place and stepped back. “An’ red matches most-a yer suits.”

            “Kid, I know I’m loaded and all but, seriously? I’m not that loaded,” Nick lied. He placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head towards his lover whose wistful face fell almost instantly.

            “…I know that,” the mechanic said, voice choked. “I was juss jokin’. Juss a pretty car, s’all.”

            “Yeah, it’s pretty,” Nick agreed, putting his hands back on his lover’s broad shoulders once again to lead him away. “And before you cum on it let’s go drool over the rest of the collection and then find something to eat.”

            “Okay,” Ellis whispered.

 

            Very carefully Nick shut the door of Ellis’ truck behind him. The boy had already scrambled out from behind the steering wheel, with his pants rolled up just below his knees and feet bootless to charge into the water of the Great Salt Lake.

            Nick walked to where the sand began and stood there, watching his lover’s silhouette against the dying colors of the sky. His lover peered out into the distance, took a picture of it, and then turned back to him, waving the camera. “Come on, I think Ikin get us both!”

            There were several things the conman disliked, and being dirty for too long was one of them. That dirtiness included the much more mentally damaging such as puke, shit-water, and gore, but dirt and sand worked just as well in annoying him.

            So he watched his lover, watching him, hands in his pockets and feet at the start of the sand.

            Ellis hurried over, feet, ankles, and the majority of his calves accumulating sand as he moved. “Roll up yer pants, like mine.”

            Nick watched him, forehead wrinkled.

            “Please?”

            “See, last time you said please…” But he was already pulling his shoe from his foot and then his sock before setting them atop the hood of the hick’s truck. He didn’t look up to see the smile on his companion’s face until he had rolled his pants up, revealing a yellowing, green bruise on his leg. But when he had looked up the smile was gone.

            Nick really wanted to save his bets for Las Vegas, but he couldn’t help but feel almost one hundred percent positive that he was one of the three people on the planet that could peel the curve from his mouth. And sure, he guessed that meant something along the lines of his importance to the boy, but it placed a lot of weight upon his shoulders. Shoulders that had long since been tailored so that he could avoid that kind of work.

            Even so, he felt like he’d done nothing but work for the last three years. Work to restore his own life and work to help restore Ellis’. And the hick’s life was bigger than the hillbilly scenario he’d imagined. Much bigger than his own.

            And somehow, much harder to regain. He wasn’t sure they’d ever be able to get it all back. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince the people who mattered most to the hick that he… Well, he wasn’t sure what to convince them of either because Ellis had done most of the convincing for everyone.

            He’d convinced his mother that Nick wasn’t some lowlife scamming for money—which he was.

            He’d convinced his grandfather that he cared for Nick because of Nick and not because he’d liked dick all his life—which had actually pleased the conman, for one reason or another.

            He’d convinced his friends that Nick deserved their respect because if he hadn’t been there, neither would Ellis—which was true.

            He’d convinced Nick that there was a reason they stayed together—which Nick hadn’t questioned until far into their journey.

            And yet still, there were holdouts.

            Ellis claimed his mother liked Nick, but honestly? Nobody liked him. He knew it, he’d known from a very young age that he’d ever only have a few, choice friends. So to claim that a southern, albeit, charming woman liked the man who fucked her son raw was a little hard to swallow.

            And honestly, he didn’t give two fucks to dwell on the more retarded of Ellis’ social sphere, which was probably kinder than the thoughts they gave of him.

            Because someday soon he’d have to deal with that shit all over again and why bother dwelling on it right now?

            “Water, kid.” He pointed and stepped, grudgingly into the sand, hoping to draw Ellis from his stupor.

            The hick trotted by him and splashed into the water, turning back to brandish his camera again. So Nick moved forward and let Ellis wrap his arm about his shoulders and take the picture. And then he let the boy turn back to the view of the sun settling down, the purple-darkening of the sky chasing after it.

            The moon was glowing, waning in its size but bright and white. Ellis pointed to it. “My ma used-ta tell me that the moon chases the sun ‘cause that’s his sister an’ he upset her one day. An’ he gets smaller ‘cause he chases her fer so long so he starves. An’ then he goes away fer a bit so he can get more food, hence why he’s full sometimes ‘cause he needs the energy-ta chase her again.”

            Nick cast a glance at him. “Why not lovers?”

            The boy continued to stare up and then blinked to himself. He quirked the corner of his mouth up in thought and then shrugged. “I dunno. I never thought-a it that way. …Guess you’d be the moon then, since yer always chasin’ me around.”

            The northerner smirked, wondering how the hick could possibly be so astute at quiet, private times and yet loud, brash, and downright ridiculous during the bright, sunlight hours. He dug his hand down and fished a cigarette box from his pocket followed by a lighter from the other. When he’d lit the end of the stick he shoved the items back. He took a long drag and pushed it out into the calm air.

            And then the cigarette was plucked from his fingers. He reached for the boy’s wrist, missing it by an inch as Ellis waded back, away from him. “Ellis. I’m not playing.”

            “I ain’t playin’ either,” the hick told him. “…I meant-a ask you afore.”

            “Ask me to quit?”

            “I juss don’t see the point. I mean, I guess I get that yer addicted er somethin’.”

            Nick watched the cigarette in his dancing hands.

            “But I mean… y’all wanna die to cancer after fightin’ so hard to keep livin’?”

            “Well, if I had to pick I’d choose cancer,” Nick joked, holding his hand out for the white stick.

            His lover frowned at him. “…Makes yer mouth taste like shit, too.”

            “Anything else?”

            “…Well… ya know that yer lungs are probably black, right? With all that tar and gunk? Thass pretty nasty, don’tchya think?”

            He watched his lover trudge back to the sand and bend down to carefully stub the now gray-ash out against the sand but he didn’t deposit the cigarette itself there. But he remained, hunched over, staring at the hole he’d made.

            After several seconds, and the urge to shove his hand in his pocket and light up another smoke, he followed his lover’s path. And then he held down his pack of cigarettes, the remaining few rattling inside.

            His lover took them, and his hand, to stand.

 

            When Nick emerged from the shower which had taken him too long because he’d had fucking sand in his hair—how it had gotten there he had no fucking clue seeing as he hadn’t put his head anywhere near the grains in the first place—Ellis was sprawled out on the bed the conman had already claimed that morning, remote in hand on his leg and eyes glued to the screen.

            His curls were still damp against his forehead and his gray t-shirt was wet in places caused by a careless toweling.

            Nick, boxers adorned, walked to the end of his bed where Ellis had moved his travel bag and a plastic bag he had acquired during their time in the city to take hold of the latter.

            His partner instantly perked up, moving down to regard the contents of the bag. “What’djya get?”

            “Nothing edible,” Nick joked, dumping the contents on the bed.

            The boys brows furrowed and he picked up one of the items, a bottle of oil and held it up. Then he smirked. “Did we run out?”

            “No.” The gambler reached towards the head of the bed and pulled back the comforter and the aligning sheets in one swipe until the motion was stopped by the hick’s thigh. He sat on the pristine whiteness and reached down for the other items, some things they needed, like sunglasses because he’d lost his somewhere along the way, and put them back into the bag. But he let his lover keep the oil.

            “What’s this for, then?”

            “It’s massage oil.”

            “…Fer yer feet?”

            “No, for my back, which you’ve been neglecting. We had a deal.”

            Ellis almost groaned but tightened his jaw shut. Then he popped the cap off and sniffed the contents. “...Least it smells nice.”

            Nick lay across the center of the bed, billowing the pillows beneath his chin before kicking at the hick under the blankets to get him to move. When he did Nick spread his body out, arms loose and up beneath his headrests for support as he waited.

            He heard the hick move over the sheets, his legs whispering across them, as he sat next to the older man’s side. And then there was the sound of wet hands slurping together and then the feel of cold palms on his back.

            He fought back the urge to jump and let the kid massage the touch to warmth. “Harder.”

            The hands slipped across his skin then and there was a chuckle above him. “They keep slippin’. How am I supposed-ta…?”

            “Slower.”

            Ellis’s fingers resumed, at the tempo and pressure suggested, pressing deep into the tight muscles at a slow rhythm, effectively relaxing and arousing all at once. But, Nick was face-down and hell if he wasn’t going to get his backrub first.

            “Why’dya need oils?”

            “Because I wanted them.”

            “Yer sure spoiled, ain’tchya?”

            “Did you save any?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Then next time, after you’ve been kicked by a horse, I’ll give you one and you’ll see why,” Nick mumbled, head lifting just barely with the words by the force of his chin against the pillows.

            Ellis’ fingers worked his shoulders in tiny circles, driving away the tension and soothing the knots that had become stubborn and twisted from driving for too many hours. And then the hands worked lower and lower.

            Nick didn’t really care, he was already dozing, eyes nodding but trying so hard to flicker back up because he was going to force the boy to continue onto his feet next even if he lost all sleep that night. Fuck it, they could sleep through the following day if necessary.

            And then the waistband of his boxers lowered and it as more than enough to drive the grasp of exhaustion away. He snapped his head to the side in suspicion.

            The hick didn’t look to him, he just continued to work his older lover’s lower back in the same, carefully methodic way he had done to the other muscles. So Nick laid his head back down and closed his eyes, willing himself not to smile if the redneck’s hands accidentally slipped forward to glide against his flanks.

            He opened his eyes next when he felt his lover’s heavy weight straddling the back of his thighs. He’d dozed, apparently, because he hadn’t even felt the shift of the bed, only the mass on his thighs and then a firm, naked erection against his ass and then lower back as Ellis sprawled himself across the gambler.

            “Ellis,” he warned, voice foggy.

            Plump lips grazed the side of his face in response. “Nick, can I…?”

            “No.”

            But the redneck didn’t get up, instead he gently ground his hips downwards, ghosting his breath against the wetness that had been left by his mouth.

            “Juss once. I’ll do anythin’ ya want after.”

            “You mean like the backrub you’re supposed to be giving me? I’ve already heard this one before.”

            The rocking motion against his ass and lower back continued, a little more forcefully now. And goddammit if his own erection hadn’t subsided. And another goddammit that he was actually enjoying the ministrations.

            “Juss once,” Ellis repeated. “I’ll… I’ll drive all the time. I’ll letch’ya smoke again. I’ll…” His lover felt silent and Nick frowned against the pillow. Because the kid didn’t have anything else to offer. Why the hell that made him feel bad, he didn’t know. All he remembered then was Ellis’ voice and the words expressed in it as they sounded those nights when he had called his mother.

            All Ellis had to himself were his clothes, his truck, and his body. And technically Nick possessed most of those, at least as much as the hick did.

            And he should’ve pointed that fact out to the southerner. And he should’ve used it to get Ellis the hell off his back. But he didn’t.

            Instead he lifted his face and let the boy kiss him again.

            When the younger man seemed to understand that he’d been given permission the kisses turned sloppy and excited. His slick hands moved from where they had been on Nick’s shoulders, downwards, tracing the lines his muscles made trailing down his back. And then they moved up again, and then around, not massaging but touching and letting that slickness increase the sensation for both men.

            Ellis very carefully lifted himself from his lover’s back and when Nick felt a pull on his boxers, very tentatively, he raised his hips so they could be shed. He heard them fall on something nearby, but he didn’t lift his head to look. He kept his head down, facing the head-post, and stared hard at a tiny, miniscule, invisible dot.

            The hick’s hands were cold again when they settled back down, against his lower back, just above the curve of his ass cheeks. Nick tightened.

            There were reasons they’d never switched positions before, and there were reasons he himself had never been fucked before. And back, before meeting the hick, he could count hygiene as one of those.

            Now, however, he simply didn’t think of it.

            Because half the time he couldn’t, not with how much everything they did seemed to excite the hick, not with how he could almost always get his lover to cum twice, and not with how eager and submissive he was whenever Nick pinned him down.

            A slick finger pressed at his opening. He grit his teeth against it.

            Truthfully, the kid hadn’t always been enthusiastic about it. He’d never turned the gambler down, no, but Nick could tell, just by watching the expressions filter and etch and shake away from his face, that in those early days it hurt like hell.

            And on the line of truthfulness, Nick really wasn’t looking forward to it.

            He supposed, even as Ellis pressed the tip of his finger in, that it could’ve been worse. That he could’ve been forced in jail if he hadn’t allied himself with strong friends for those few months or he could’ve been forced by some of the sick fucks he’d conned or worked for in the past if he hadn’t always been one step ahead. So having his choice of some twenty-five-year-old kid who wouldn’t kill a spider if he didn’t have to was probably his safest bet.

            As safe as you can be with something going in your ass.

            Ellis was breathing, deeply and unsteadily above him, finger in past the first knuckle. He pressed it a little further and it felt damn weird. And when it slipped in past his second, bulkier knuckle the conman almost reared his arm back, almost.

            And then he wondered how weird it must’ve been for Ellis their first time. The kid had all but been shaking, the first time he’d seen such a thing from the formerly fearsome killing machine.

            Because the idea had been foreign to both of them, the catholic more so, of course, but still. Nick had never fucked another man and the kid had never even comprehended the aspect before, as simple and naïve as he had been. He’d been aware, he had claimed, but he never thought about it, because it hadn’t been his business.

            So how embarrassed and how confused had he been? How embarrassed and confused was he still?

            Because Ellis still blushed. And Ellis still didn’t moan out loud. And Ellis still covered his face whenever he could.

            The bed shifted underneath him to allow his lover to lay half-atop him, his arm still stretched downwards and finger still very much encased in his older lover’s opening. And Nick silently prayed that the kid wouldn’t ask him what to do. He silently prayed that he would have enough fucking sense to remember what the conman did because last time he checked the hick had been there every time.

            Luckily the boy didn’t say a thing. Instead he worked his mouth against the shoulder beneath it with heavy lips and heavy breaths, and slowly pushed and pulled his finger from the warm grasp encircling it.

            And after several moments the tip of a second finger pressed against him to slip inside, and then very gently and steadily it joined its partner’s depth. Ellis held them there for a moment and the gambler turned his head to see why.

            His lover’s breath patted against his face again and kisses pressed as best as they could against his jaw line. The fingers moved again, together and then apart, and then back and forth, and then twisting.

            It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t exactly feel good either, well, until the callused fingers hooked just the slightest bit.

            There was a sharp intake of breath and Nick realized, near mortification, that it was his own. And then his lover’s breath followed, faster and clearly thrilled, almost as if he were the one getting the attention.

            The touch hooked again and pressed down, firm and attentive, and there was the sound of squelching wet fingers and deepening breaths and then quiet words that were so thick and southern Nick couldn’t understand more than his name.

            And he didn’t want to so instead he positioned his weight up on his elbows and tried to even his own voice. “Hurry up.”

            The digits remained for a few more seconds, forcing the northerner to drop his head so as to avoid any eye contact with his younger lover, before they gave his insides a final stroke and pulled out with moist clicks.

            “…Can ya turn over?”

            “Why?”

            Ellis’ left hand smoothed against his side instead of an answer.

            Hesitantly, Nick rolled onto his back, eyes caught on where his mechanic was spreading the massage oil over his cock slowly, eyes on the similarly on his own movement and then torso, stomach, and then lower. Because Nick still very much had an erection.

            Nonchalant and inwardly ashamed, the northerner took it with his own hand and began to work it slowly. The blue eyes rolled back up to his face and softened while the boy beamed, a slow, loving bend of lips. And then he moved between the older man’s thighs and lifted them and spread them, and Nick turned his head away.

            Ellis, however, stared down intently, as if he were staring down at that Jaguar’s engine all over again. And then he moved his hips forward, one hand on the base of his own cock to guide himself in.

            And after a few excruciatingly long seconds filled with pants and small, uncertain pushes, and finally the dull weight of having something inside him, Nick relaxed his hold on the sheets that he hadn’t realized he’d pulled up from the mattress. Because it hurt like all hell.

            And he knew only Ellis’ head had even breached his entrance and already it felt so fucking full and throbbing and sore.

            The hick was waiting for him, nervous eyes on the ex-con’s face and hands gripping the skin of his thighs in squeezing, uneven patterns to distract himself from the fact that the older man’s erection had gone flaccid.

            Nick heaved a deep breath and, cursing mentally at himself, wound his legs about the boy’s waist and gave him a tug forward by flexing. And Ellis went in to his hilt and curled over, his head almost close enough to touch the chest below it.

            Grimacing freely, as the redneck could no longer see his face, Nick brought a hand up to press over his eyes. Because the entire thing felt full and weird and unnatural. He wondered how many times he’d told Ellis it was ‘okay’ and that no, it actually felt good, he just needed to give it a minute.

            “Nick…” Ellis whispered, “stop tensin’.”

            Tensing? Well, now that it was fucking mentioned he realized that yes, his ass was tightening and struggling against the intrusion. And instead of pushing it out it was having the effect of a sucking, swallowing motion around the hick’s cock.

            Ellis raised his face, pink and red and dazed with that lopsided smile and leaned forward to kiss Nick’s mouth. And even before their lips parted his hips rolled, sporadic and impatient. His hands followed a similar jagged rhythm, sliding from strong thighs to the tensing stomach where they sprawled and where one followed down the older man’s dark hairline to his crotch.

            Fingers fell on the softened dick and even in the boy’s eager haze of rutting hips and searching, scratching fingernails, they moved gently and almost teasingly to coax the erection back to standing attention.

            And Nick wasn’t surprised when it obeyed, hardening within moments against the callused fingers to which it had grown accustomed. Because the pain had subsided. The fullness hadn’t, but he’d take that over the feeling of being ripped apart.

            Because Ellis may have been pushing into him repeatedly and quickly, but he wasn’t thrusting; he was rocking. He wasn’t fucking; he was making love.

            From the spread of color beneath the skin of his face and neck and chest he was more than enjoying himself, too. And that was Nick’s benefit as well because truthfully he could probably watch the hick with that coloring and cum without touching himself.

            Although, he wasn’t about to considering their positioning. But, still, he reached his hands up to touch along the strong arms and then his torso and then his neck to his face and when he pulled him back down to kiss him with a sweep of his tongue and suck of that bottom lip Ellis lost himself.

            His hips increased their speed but not their force and his hands snapped to the sides of Nick’s hips to keep him in position, and with a loud groan and a few choked gasps he fell atop the older man’s ribs, back hunched and cock still embedded within the now-stretched opening.

            Nick reached down to smooth his hand over the redneck’s back, soothingly, because damn if the kid wasn’t still shaking and gasping.

            “That was too fast,” Ellis said suddenly.

            “Whose fault is that?”

            “Yers.” The younger survivor moved his hips, gingerly and slipped out of his older lover so that he could move up the furred chest to lay his head just below the line of Nick’s neck.

            The gambler eased his legs back together, save for the space the hick’s had occupied between his own, and actually curled his arm about the warm body molded to his. He smoothed his thumb over the skin beneath it.

            Ellis’ own hand moved then, down to the erection still waiting between them. He massaged the pads of his fingers against the delicate skin. He tilted his head up and arched his neck to catch the mouth that Nick had turned towards him.

            They kissed lazily with sweeping tongues and brushing lips.

            Nick brought his free palm up to cup the side of his lover’s face, smoothing the tips of his fingers against the strong cheekbone and the supple skin just below the eye.

            Neither man shut their eyes and when the gambler finally tightened and pulsed against the rough touch he held that blue gaze within his own.

            And for the first time in three years Nick willingly let Ellis tuck his head under his stubbled chin and sleep atop him.

 

            The southerner didn’t raise his head when Nick walked back into the hotel room the next morning, ice bucket in one hand and a bag of breakfast food in the other. He didn’t wake when his shoulder was shook. And he didn’t wake when Nick lightly smacked his cheek.

            So he dumped the ice on him.

            Ellis shot up, eyes bloodshot and panicked, clawing at the cold cubes on his skin that had now, through his jolt, moved to pool in his lap.

            “NICK! WHAT THE HELL?!”

            “We need to get moving,” he said simply.

            “So ya dump ice on me?” The hick stood and let the remaining ice pat against the carpeted floor.

            Nick didn’t respond. He pointed to the bathroom and set the bag of food down so he could cross/limp over to where his travel bag was waiting on their unused second bed. And when his lover reappeared from within the bathroom he had already laid out the hick’s clothes and had shoved the rest away.

            Ellis dressed quietly, pulled his cap over his head, and rubbed at his eyes. When the bag of food was held towards him he took it gratefully and shoved his hand inside. His bagel was already cut, cream cheese applied, and still warm.

            “Did you want coffee?”

            “No, I don’t ever drink that stuff, you know that.”

            “Yeah, I know but you’re tired,” Nick replied, leading them from the room and closing the door behind.

            Ellis, who was chewing away at his food, seemed to catch back up to the conversation a few minutes later when their elevator opened up to the lobby. “Does it matter? You drive durin’ the day anyway.”

            “Yeah, well, about that,” Nick began, smirk tight on his face. “Hate to tell you you’re going to have to drive through the days now, too.”

            His lover looked at him, grumpy in his sleep-deprivation. He dropped his bagel back into the bag and curled the top up tightly in his fist. “If this is ‘cause-a last night you said I could! Ya coulda said no.”

            “Not why.”

            “Then what? What’d I do now?” He sighed heavily and slumped his shoulders.

            Nick took the curved back under his hands turned his lover around gently to where his truck, their Harley, and their new Red ’69 Jaguar waited. “Because I have a real hard time driving two vehicles.”

            The bagel bag dropped. “You bought her?”

            Nick let his hands fall away.

            “You BOUGHT her?!” Ellis turned around and clapped his body to the northerner’s in a crushing embrace. “SHIT, Nick!” The hick forced their mouths together and Nick laughed against it before he turned and galloped off towards their new ride. “I LOVE YOU! This is AWESOME!”

            Nick waited a moment, calming himself, because the kid was just grateful and excited and stupidly expressive, not heartfelt, and crossed near him. He crossed his arms. “…Think you can stay awake now?”

            “I can stay up fer the next ten days if ya want,” Ellis announced, hands on the hood.

            Nick dangled the keys from his ringed fingers.

            Ellis took them. “You don’t want to drive her? I know ya hate my truck.”

            “I’ll live. I already drove her over here.”

            The hick grinned and stepped up to smash their faces together again. When he pulled away he glanced back at the car. “Maybe you an’ me should go fer a test drive anyway, afore we leave.”

            “Depends on what you mean by test-drive.”

            “Nick, we ain’t havin’ sex in this car.”

            “Probably a good idea,” the conman agreed, slipping into the passenger’s seat. “You’d probably cum early and stain the leather.”


	7. God, Nick Loves Vegas: Part 1

            Ellis stumbled from the bar, the sides of his boots scuffing together and hands outstretched in order to catch himself against the pavement, readily willing to sacrifice his palms against the greater damage the hard surface would inflict upon his face.

            A strong arm encircled his chest, however, and he was drawn back upright and pulled quickly away from a chorus of angry voices and empty threats.

            But all he acknowledged was the laugh on Nick’s breath.

            After they had moved a safe distance away the other man’s hold, that had moved to encircle the mechanic’s back, dropped away. Instead the hands focused on a wad of cash between them. The wad of cash that had inadvertently been garnered at his expense and had been the reason for the pub’s uproar.

            Ellis wiped the sweat from his forehead, just barely touching the brim of his hat in the process. Unlike his lover his heart was still beating madly and there was no sign of amusement on his usually smile-wrinkled face.

            “What if they call the cops?”

            “They’re not going to call the cops, relax,” Nick murmured, rolling the cash back up so that he could tuck it in the pocket of his suit jacket. “Guys like that are usually too embarrassed to go to the cops and admit that they were big enough idiots to bet their money in some random bar instead of a casino.”

            The hick looked over his shoulder.

            “And the cops aren’t going to give two shits, anyway,” the conman continued. “They have bigger crap to deal with in this city.”

            Ellis looked back when a hand settled on his shoulder. “It wasn’t that hard.”

            “Three-card monte shouldn’t be,” the older man replied, pulling the younger survivor along into the crowd of tourists thronging the street.

            They’d been in Las Vegas two days and while they had already gone to several casinos and Nick had wowed him with a large amount of winnings, the older man had been keen on the idea of teaching his companion some of the tricks of his ‘trade.’ The redneck had agreed because he wanted to know what Nick felt while doing it. Because he wanted to earn back some of the money spent on him in the past. And because Nick still hadn’t stopped smiling.

            And even though they had probably swindled twenty-five thousand dollars from honest, hard working people that had probably traveled to the city on vacation, he didn’t feel guilty.

            Nick was still smiling.

 

            “I really appreciate it. Better to nip it now before it becomes a problem. Especially on that ride home.”

            “Can’t argue with that.” Ellis shut the hood of the black Jeep Cherokee he had been inspecting and then correcting.

            The man standing before him was obviously a tourist, evidenced by his blue Hawaiian shirt was evident enough and even further compounded by the Michigan hat atop his head. But Ellis liked him because he’d chosen to drive to Las Vegas, too.

            He’d probably driven with his wife or something and that long ride had taken its toll on their vehicle.

            Ellis had spotted it in the parking lot of their hotel while waiting for Nick to retrieve something from their room. At first he had just noticed the bend of the bumper, something he could mend with the tools in his truck.

            But when he’d kneeled down its owner had found him.

            Luckily the hick was able to explain himself. Partly, he was sure, because the guy was genuinely kind and patient. Somehow the man had even offered to start up the car for him, revealing a few more issues that Ellis knew he could fix relatively quickly. A few tweaks here and there and the tourist’s car would be just fine for the drive home.

            It could probably still make the drive as it was, and he told the man that, but his words had been dismissed with a wave of a plump hand.

            Ellis replaced his tools to the back of his truck before turning back.

            The tourist rifled through his wallet and then held out a small stack of green towards the southerner. So it was his turn to wave his hand. “I can’t take that, thanks though. I didn’t do nothin’ hard.”

            “You spent the time working on it,” his customer protested.

            “No, really, I can’t—…”

            “Ellis.”

            He turned, quickly, as if the beckons had been unexpected. Nick stepped up, close to the side of his truck and arched his brows over his eyes as they met those of the tourist.

            “I was helping out,” Ellis explained before the silence could stretch awkwardly between them.

            Nick took a moment and then turned his face towards the hick. And then he crossed his arms. “Yeah? Well, guess who just called me?”

            “Somebody called you?” Ellis clipped his fingers against the brim of his hat. “Was it Coach or Ro?”

            “No. It was your boss. Said you missed a client.”

            “…What?”

            “Your boss,” Nick drawled carefully, elongating the words, “called and said you missed a client. Know how much money that is out of your pocket?”

            Ellis stared at him blankly but kept his mouth shut. He knew better than to question his confusing in regards to the older man, mainly because half the time it involved an attempt to score some money from a person whom had been designated as an easy ‘mark.’

            He’d already learned that lesson several times during their travels and had even been warned as they’d packed their things away into the hotel room.

            Nick was out to make money and he’d admitted it freely.

            So Ellis shuffled between his feet and then looked down at them, unsure of what words he was supposed to spout and recite. Unsure because he didn’t want to take money from a guy who wasn’t making some stupid bet in a casino or a bar.

            “Apparently it was a pretty big one,” Nick said. “Guess you should get your ass there so you don’t lose more money. I know how you need it.”

            “Yeah,” the mechanic mumbled, and he moved towards the door of his truck.

            “Wait,” the tourist’s said, halting both men. “Now I’d really feel bad if you didn’t take the money, and…” He withdrew his wallet again and slipped a few more bills from the sliver-sized slitted pocket. “I’m not sure how much you would’ve made but I hope this helps.”

            Ellis reached out, mind still not completely grasping the situation. He watched as the bills folded against the creases of his hand.

            Nick’s hand cupped his elbow and pulled and the hick went to follow the movement.

            Until a woman and two children ran up to his client.

            “What’s going on, Herb?”

            ‘Herb’ turned to her. “Remember that rattling noise? Well this kid here noticed something wrong with our bumper and then offered to check out the noise, too. Saved us some money.”

            “That’s good to hear.” His wife, a skinny, bland looking woman smiled at Ellis. “Thank you.” She opened the back door and hefted one of her giggling children onto the backseat.

            And Ellis turned to look at Nick, frowning, the bottom line of his eyes curving upwards, as if he were staring directly into the sun. Very slowly he shook his head.

            Nick rolled his eyes in response and loosened his hold, turning his back to walk further down the stretch of cars to where their Jag was parked.

            The redneck caught the tourist just as he started his car. Their window hummed down and the man leaned out just slightly.

            “I really can’t take it,” Ellis said, holding the money back to him.

            Herb stared at him and then smiled slowly. He took the small sheets back and peeled a few away before holding the rest back. “Take my first offer, please.”

            And he did, crumpling it in his hand as he watched the family pull away to do one of the many activities they probably had planned.

            He remembered the only vacation his family had gone on, a long time ago, when he’d been about eight. Back before his father had left him and his mother he’d taken them on a trip to Gettysburg. He’d wanted to show them some of their country’s history and his grandfather had readily agreed with the sentiment.

            And it hadn’t been fun like going to Las Vegas or an amusement park might’ve been, but Ellis still counted it as one of the best times of his life. He and his mother had even been able to convince the two older men to go out of the way on the drive back down so that they could see Washington and the sites there.

            Ellis had never been back, but he still remembered everything, all the gleaming white and the awe-invoking monuments as if he’d visited the city yesterday.

            Nobody had swindled them out of money while they were there. In fact, all he remembered were smiles and ice cream and good meals, some of the last full, good meals he’d have until he was old enough to get a job and help support his mother after his father’s departure.

            He jogged to catch up with Nick who was leaning against the red of their newest vehicle, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded in a similar manner.

            Ellis held out the money. “He still paid me a little.”

            The northerner looked it over. He sighed and pushed himself off the car. “He’s just going to be marked by someone else. And that someone else is probably going to be ten times worse than me.”

            The hick watched his lover’s face and then looked away. “Well, we ain’t gotta have a hand in it. Asides, he had kids, Nick.”

            Ellis waited, not needing to look to know that those searching eyes were spreading across his face. He could feel them, so he held his hand out, cupped around the money.

            Nick shook his head and stood, bypassing the offering to walk towards the exit. Ellis followed after closely.

            “Ya want the money?”

            “No.”

            “Well, I hafta pay ya back anyway,” the southerner shrugged. “I toldjya that.”

            The older man glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Just keep it; we can use it towards dinner or something.”

            Ellis stopped, tilting his head a little as his partner continued on. Because he had meant it when he had said he was going to pay Nick back. Because he knew what a burden he’d become. Because he knew it wasn’t fair to just rely on his lover’s money.

            Because he hadn’t known or expected Nick to be so nonchalant and passive in regards to the money. Because he hadn’t realized that the older man’s money and any money he himself ever made had become one. Because he hadn’t realized it was _theirs._

 

            The lights of Fremont street were playing off the features of the people all around them, the people who had also stopped to stare at the flickering change of colors and shapes surrounded by the loud blasts of shrilling music.

            And Ellis was watching the profile of Nick’s face. He was watching the way the colors lit up his dark and deeply etched features. He was watching how they revealed the lines of his face, his eyelids, his mouth, his wrinkles.

            He watched the way they lined from the corners of his mouth, the corners of his eyes, and along his forehead.

            He wondered why Nick was so stressed. Wrinkles and gray hairs, which he had yet to find in the dark, slicked hair, were caused by stress, he was told. So he wondered if it was all from the apocalypse. He wondered if it was from the camp afterwards. He wondered if it was because of him.

            Nick caught his look then, questioned it with that ever-present quirk of one thick eyebrow.

            The hick shrugged in response. “I ever tell ya ‘bout the time Keith and I tried makin’ fireworks an’--…”

            “Is this the one where he sets gas on fire?”

            Ellis pressed his lips together. “…Told ya that one already, huh?”

            “Yeah,” Nick said, reaching into his pocket to pull out a piece of gum that he shoved into his mouth to chew slowly and methodically, the muscles of his jaw now highlighted by the neon colors.

            “Okay, well there was this other time on the fourth when we bought all these awesome fireworks. Some huge rockets, too. An’ we didn’t know what to set them off with on account-a we didn’t have a tube-ta set ‘em off in. So--…”

            “So you guys tied it to a metal lawn chair but Keith wanted to set more than one off at a time and it sent the chair flying. And then it landed in a pool a couple of houses down.”

            “That one, too, huh?” Ellis rubbed at the back of his neck. “…Well how about the one where we made Keith some rocket skates?”

            Nick smoothed his hand over his mouth and then shook his head.

            “Well, at first he didn’t know how to brace himself so he landed right on his back. Real hard an’ all. But every time we tried he kept goin’ farther an’ farther. An’ then the last time he couldn’t stop an’ he ran smack right into his dad’s truck an’ broke the mirror right off.”

            His lover snorted.

            “What?”

            “That’s not that big of a deal.”

            “Well he hadta go to the hospital and get the glass removed from his body.”

            Nick shook his head and leaned closer. “The last summer I was home my cousin was with us, right?”

            “What was his name?”

            “What’s it matter?”

            Ellis didn’t know. And he didn’t want to risk speaking because it was the first time Nick had ever shared a story on his own. And he had no idea when it would happen again.

            “Mike. He was seventeen or something. My uncle got him a bag full of half sticks of dynamite, right? So we set one off in the street and all the car alarms go off. So Mike decides to set them off around this old veteran’s house.”

            “That ain’t right.”

            “Mike wasn’t right,” Nick affirmed around a smile. He turned his head to watch as a couple of children ran past them, closer to the large, vibrant screen.

            “What happened?” Ellis asked, pressing their silence away.

            Nick shrugged. “He came out with a pistol, thinking his house was under attack. Lucky for us somebody called the cops so they caught us first.”

            “Betchyer dad was pissed.”

            “I don’t know, he was pretty drunk when we got back,” the conman admitted. “Mary was the one who handled the cops.”

            “Mary?”

            “My stepmother,” Nick explained. “I told you her name before.”

            Ellis shook his head, smiling.

            “I thought I did.”

            The hick shifted his weight and sucked on his cheek, looking towards and through the screen before them. Nick hadn’t even told him his father’s name, but he wasn’t going to press the issue. It was also the first time he’d ever heard of any of Nick’s family outside of just his parents and stepmother.

            He didn’t know if Nick had siblings, grandparents, hell, he hadn’t even known the northerner had almost had a child until it nonchalantly slipped out.

            And he supposed that was his fault. He should’ve been the one to ask about those kinds of things. As much as he was afraid Nick would retreat or snap out at him for asking, he still felt bad that he knew more about his ex wife than the people like his father and stepmother and random cousin Mike who were more important.

            Not that he knew the ex’s name anyway.

            “What’s yer dad’s name? …Well, I should probably just call him by his last name, huh?”

            Nick glanced down the few inches at him but didn’t voice the tenseness in his shoulders instead he just shrugged them out. “Probably. But his name is Jim.”

            Ellis nodded and smiled and didn’t ask further. He just pulled the money from his pocket, and flipped through it like he had seen his lover do. “…I can buy us some cheeseburgers.”

            “Because grease was exactly what I wanted to eat tonight.”

 

            The duo sucked back their shots of tequila, Nick smacking his down first and Ellis’ own tiny glass following suit a little quieter and more gingerly.

            The conman poured them more.

            Ellis hadn’t been able to convince his companion to actually get some burgers with him, but he had convinced him to at least spend the money on a round of drinks for them.

            And he couldn’t have been happier with the result.

            Nick had kept a smile on his face, sure it had decayed somewhat from time to time into a smirk and then being just barely there and then even once or twice into a white-toothed display. But the lines of his face weren’t so heavy anymore and his voice was high and happy, not dragging through the gravel of the street.

            Ellis had never seen him smile so much. Well, actually when he stole his Harley Nick had given his smiles and laughs readily the amusement surpassing any other emotion for a good two days straight.

            So he wondered why this town, of all things, made him so relaxed.

            And then he wondered if it was even because of the city or if it was because of what it offered. He wondered if Nick was happy because he could finally start earning the large sum money he was used to. And then he wondered if their funds had been running dry.

            He wondered if Nick would want to leave.

            Because he knew eventually he would. And he wanted the older man with him.

            When he spoke his voice shook. “So… Mike’s kinda like yer Keith.”

            “No,” Nick said, hand touching the top of his lover’s shoulder, heavy and warm, “because Mike wasn’t retarded.”

            “Keith ain’t retarded.”

            “Yes, he is.”

            Ellis felt the bridge of his nose wrinkle and his lips draw back but before he could spout out a defense of his friend the fingers against his muscle squeezed, gently.

            “I don’t want to talk about it now,” Nick murmured. And then his hand dropped away, returning to the glass before him to help it back towards his lips.

            The mechanic watched his lover’s adam’s apple bob.

            “Okay.” Ellis looked to his own drink. “Whatchya wanna talk ‘bout?”

            One tip of a ringed-finger circled the curved line of his shot glass. “I could care less.” But he continued anyway, “…How’s Vegas for you?”

            “Like the movies,” the younger man laughed. “’Cept I ain’t gotten drunk enoughta marry a stripper.”

            “Lucky,” Nick muttered, filling up his glass again. “Drink.”

            Ellis did as he was told. “…Ain’t nice-ta call yer wife a stripper.” And he was again very grateful for both the booze in the northerner’s system and the bright lights of Las Vegas.

            “No. That was Mike again. Came to visit me out here after a while. Lasted about two nights. Woke up married to Rebecca. Still married to her, last time I checked.”

            The mechanic nodded, wanting him to go on. Well, he wanted to break in with his own story considering his mother and father had been among the numerous couples to pair up too quickly and too easily, hence the reason for his disappearance, Ellis figured.

            But he didn’t want to bring it up because he and Nick had gotten together quickly, too. And unlike his parents they hadn’t made it to the eight year mark yet.

            And Ellis wasn’t about to jinx himself.

            Although he guessed if Nick’s cousin was able to marry a woman he’d never met before and stay with her, especially considering her former profession, his lover could deal with a mechanic. At the very least he could count on being dragged around to keep the Jag in working condition.

            A new drink was set in front of Ellis, gold and cold. He blinked at the bartender and looked to Nick, wondering if he’d really drifted off into his own thoughts long and deep enough to miss his lover’s new order. And although he didn’t mind drinking whatever the ex-con did he really did prefer beer over any other alcoholic beverage. Well, unless he was aiming to puke in the morning, and the last time he did it Nick had refused to kiss him for a week.

            But the green eyes were aimed over his shoulder when he tried to look into them.

            “Looks like you’ve got some admirers,” Nick muttered, snapping his nose in an attempt to redirect the younger man’s gaze.

            So Ellis spun in his chair and looked, eyebrows high on his head.

            “Subtle, kid.”

            By the time the hick spotted his ‘admirers’, two young woman, probably around his own age in tight, short black dresses and loads of shining make up, they were already up walking towards the survivors.

            Besides him Nick’s shot glass clinked again and his chair groaned as the weight set upon it was alleviated. He turned to him. “We’re leavin’? Ain’t gonna say thanks?”

            “I’m leaving,” Nick corrected, flicking some bills onto the top of the bar. He took the neck of their tequila bottle in his fingers while his others sought out the curled hair of his lover. “You can say thank you.”

            “What?” Ellis snatched the wrist of the conman’s dress shirt and held firm. “Where’re ya goin’?”

            “I’m going to take a shower,” Nick grumbled and looked up, smiling, and the redneck listened to heeled-feet clicking to a stop behind him. He winced as his lover’s fingers patted soundly against his cheek. “Have fun.”

            “Nick,” the southerner hissed as his grip slipped off the fabric. But his lover didn’t turn back.

            Very slowly Ellis turned in his seat, peeking back at the two women who had approached him, wishing he hadn’t been told to leave his hat in their room yet again.

            “Hi,” one said from between plump lips. “You don’t mind if we sit with you, do you?”

            Ellis shook his head and then found his words. “’Course not. Thanks fer the beer… y’all coulda just came an’ sat down.”

            The split from each other, one on either side, plump lips to his left and the skinnier girl, a tall blonde on his right.

            “Where are you from?” Blonde-girl asked, setting her martini of some sort—Ellis wasn’t too good with fancy drinks—down on top of a small napkin.

            “Savannah,” Ellis nodded, shifting in his seat. He cupped his hand around his beer and stared hard as the girls shared their own home city, but he was watching the bubbles rise in the drink so contently that he missed it. So he took a sip, wishing it could last longer than the two seconds it took him. Because he knew he wasn’t good enough at talking to keep up a conversation with two pretty girls.

            And he didn’t know what to say anyway. He’d never had a drink bought for him before, well, not by a girl anyway. Way he saw it men were supposed to buy things for women because that was common courtesy. But he couldn’t very much just decline the drink after it had already been paid for. He just wished he hadn’t spent all his money so he could return the favor. It only seemed right.

            Plump-lips had asked him a question, at least he guessed she had by the way she blinked her brown eyes at him and how, when he glanced beside him, Blonde-girl’s tan face possessed the same look.

            He took another sip of his drink and when he swallowed he did the only thing he could think of, the only thing he ever did when he was uncomfortable or surrounded by people he didn’t know. He told stories.

            He asked if they had ever been to Savannah. When both had shook their heads he told them they should’ve because it really was a nice city, well, it had been before the infection, they were still rebuilding stuff here and there, but it was still nice in the summer.

            The infection had hit it real bad, he told them. And they’d stated, in disbelief, that they’d never met a survivor before, that they’d lived in the western states their entire life.

            So Ellis told them about how he built up his truck but how it didn’t work out half as well as he had expected. And then he told them about the hotel. He told them about meeting his friends, Coach, Rochelle, and Nick. And he told them how Nick had shot a jockey off his back with just a pistol.

            And he told them about how Nick had taken out a Hunter in mid-air with a katana they’d found lying around, right in the right eye!

            “Nick was the friend here earlier?” Plumpy asked. “Why’d he leave?”

            “Oh, he wantedta shower. He hates bein’ dirty. This one time we hadta run through a sewer, though, on accounta we had to go through an ‘Under the River Tour’ so we could get our car across this bridge. An’ I told him he had-a turd on his shoulder—ya shouldn’t say shit like that to him, man, trust me. He punched my arm so hard I couldn’t close my fist fer a minute straight!”

            The girls giggled and now it was Blonde-girl’s turn to speak. “So you two are travelling now?”

            “Yeah,” Ellis nodded after swallowing the new mouthful of beer he had swiped. “We been all over but we were workin’ towards comin’ here. Ain’t sure where we’re goin’ after.”

            Plumpy nodded. “So it’s your first time to Vegas.”

            “Yeah, mine. He’s been here tons, though.”

            “Did you guys go to any shows or anything?” Blonde-girl’s martini was empty and Ellis wondered what time it was.

            “Nah, I don’t think I’d like sittin’ an’ watchin’ people sing er dance er whatever… I dunno. Nick’s been gamblin’ ‘cause he’s real good at it. I’m learnin’ though.”

            “Well, Nick sounds like a good friend,” Plumpy said but the hick caught the roll of her eyes. “But what do you do?”

            “Well I usedta work in a garage back in Savannah with my friends. Was in a band with them, too. Right now though… Nothin.’ Soon as Nick decides we should stop travellin’ I’mma try-ta start up a new garage… er find a job at one somewhere.”

            “A band,” Blonde-y picked out from the rushed words. “What’d you do?”

            “I played bass. Can’t sing, though. I figure that’s on account-ta my accent.”

            “Pft. It’s really cute!”

            “Thanks,” Ellis smiled at one and then the other. “Everyone else says it’s annoyin’. …Well, Nick says it’s annoyin’ ‘cause he’s from up north an’ ain’t usedta it. Everyone else back home talks like me. Maybe that’s why he wantedta get outta Savannah so bad.”

            “So is it possible for you to stop talking about your friend for a little bit?” Plumpy asked, arched, plucked brows pursing the space between them.

            The hick wasn’t sure what to say.

            “Don’t listen to her, she just put her tampon in wrong again, apparently,” Blonde-girl said, putting her polished nails and soft fingers on Ellis’ wrist.

            “Well, wekin talk about somethin’ else,” the southerner managed to say, a little unsettled by the reference to a lady’s unmentionables.

            Plumpy didn’t want to talk about something else, though, because she was already walking away from both the hick and her friend. Ellis frowned and turned to the remaining woman.

            “Trust me, it’s not you,” Blonde-y reassured. “But anyway, you know, I didn’t catch your name.”

            “It’s Ellis.”

            “That’s a weird one,” she giggled. “I’m Dana.”

            “Niceta meetchya, Dana. Maybe ya should go after her, though?”

            “Oh, she’ll be fine, really. I’d rather talk to you some more. I’ve never heard so many interesting stories.”

            “Yeah, I gotta million… Actually probably not, but that’s what Nick always says ‘cause we been together three years an’ I’m still tellin’ him shit he didn’t know afore ‘bout me.”

            “You guys have been travelling three years?”

            “No, we been travelllin’ a couple months or so… We lived in the camp fer awhile an’ then we stayed in Savannah.”

            Dana searched his face. “…You’re not gay, are you?”

            Ellis sat up straight and puffed out his chest. “Hell no, I ain’t gay.” Because he wasn’t. Because being gay meant you liked looking at men. He didn’t like looking at men. He didn’t like men. He liked Nick. There was a difference… no matter what his grandfather said.

            “Sorry,” his flirter apologized quickly. “I didn’t think so but I just had to make sure before things got awkward.”

            “Awkward?”

            “Because I was going to suggest we move this conversation up to my room.”

            Ellis stared at her, speechless for a moment. And then he hurriedly stood up, stepping back away from her, laughing in an embarrassed, high-pitched chuckle. “Nah, I should… I should go make sure Nick ain’t passed out in the shower er nothin’.” And before she could reply he sprinted to the elevator and held his breath until the doors closed in his face.

 

            Nick had waited to take his shower, apparently, because when the hick reentered their spacious hotel room he could hear the shower even from the front room. He passed by the heavily stocked mini-bar adorned with the not-so-empty tequila bottle the conman had carried with him earlier, checking to make sure no other liquor was missing. None was.

            When he went into the bedroom there was a book, a random one Nick had bought when they’d stopped at one place or another, lying on the dresser beside the right side of the bed with the older man’s glasses folded neatly atop it. Next to them lay the hick’s hat.

            Ellis closed the gap between himself and the bathroom further on, walking through the separate make-up vanity, passed the tub (which, he had told Nick when they’d first checked in, was bigger than his bed back home) that was filled for one reason or another, and entered the small separate area for the toilet and sizeable shower.

            He could see the outline of his lover’s body through the opaque and now-foggy glass.

            So he undressed and climbed in.

            Nick turned to him, bemused, brows high on his forehead, forcing the crinkles there upwards. “Couldn’t seal the deal, Overalls?”

            Ellis glared and shook his head. “Why’djya leave?”

            The conman chuckled and turned back to the streaming water, rinsing the suds from his hair in a steady line of white that dripped off the ends of his hair or trailed down the remainder of his body. “I didn’t think you’d stay down there for another hour and a half, Ellis. Guess they found your stories about as riveting as I do since you came back at all.”

            “I don’t get it,” Ellis confessed suddenly, confused by the entire situation. Confused as to why Nick would leave him down there. Confused as to why Nick seemed to be blaming him for the fiasco.

            “Nothing to get,” the conman said. “I saw them staring at you, saw them buy the drink, and figured I’d let you talk to somebody that wasn’t me for a change. That’s all.”

            Reaching for the shampoo the hick poured a small amount into his palm before lathering it against his head. “Oh.” He couldn’t remember saying he was sick of his fellow traveler’s company. And he certainly couldn’t remember thinking or feeling it.

            Nick moved away from the faucet and allowed the younger man to soak his head, close his eyes, and feel the billowing warmth as it lifted in the bathroom air. And then his hands touched the toned back, sliding against the slickness of the skin stretched over his ribs, and pressed firm against the bottom line of his pectorals.

            Ellis leaned back. “What d’ya tell people when they ask if yer gay?”

            “They asked you that?”

            “One-a them did,” the hick affirmed.

            “Jesus, kid. What’d you tell them?”

            “Juss that we’re travellin’ an’ stuff. What’s that matter?”

            Nick leaned his head down and pressed his cheek to the side of the younger survivor’s neck, against where it formed into soft, supple skin and beating nerves and veins underneath. He turned his face and skimmed his teeth along the water that had striped along it, forgoing his answer.

            The firm hands moved from his chest to the underside of his arms and then upwards so that they both lifted together before Nick pressed the mechanic’s callused hands firmly against the tiled wall of the shower.

            “Think you can stay standin’?” Ellis asked. “I think yer a little drunk.”

            “Key word there was ‘little,’” his lover said, drifting his hands back downwards against the wet lines of the southerner’s stomach, to his lower abdomen, and then to the downward v-shape of his hips inverted towards his crotch.

            And then he took Ellis’ limp dick within his hands, stroking the skin in slow, quiet tugs. The hick didn’t take long to respond—he never did, and he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to be embarrassed by that or not. So he was.

            “Told them you weren’t gay, huh?” Nick smoothed his tongue along the backside of Ellis’ ear, as if to make sure he’d use them.

            “I ain’t.”

            “Really?” the older man asked, feigning bewildered disbelief. “It sure feels like you are.”

            “That’s different,” Ellis breathed.

            Nick’s fingers dug into the skin just below his hipbones and he let his lower back arch, his chest dip forward and his hips angle backwards.

            “That doesn’t make any sense, idiot.” His tone wasn’t fake anymore.

            Ellis started to stand when the hands on him relaxed their hold and drifted away. He stopped when one of them returned, haltingly, against his lower back. The other joined it as it began to move in small circles up and then back down, and then to his sides. He let his head hang so he could watch the soap run off his back, down the inside of his legs towards his ankles where it rushed to the drain by way of his feet.

            “Makes sense to me,” he murmured, voice lost in the spray.

            “I’m pretty sure,” Nick continued on behind him, unaware of the spoken words, “that participating in sex with another man makes you gay.”

            Ellis meant to say something, but strong fingers were working his flesh, back and forth along the hard length of his cock, the rhythm mirroring the pleasurable shockwaves that tightened his stomach and choked his breath.

            Nick pressed against him then. His cock, slick and wet and soapy slid against his protruding backside and slipped easily into the now-exposed crevice between his cheeks.

            The mechanic pressed his over-heated cheek against the tile and clamped his eyes shut, trying to focus on the way the water was patting down against his back and the way it was beading down his skin instead of the way the older man’s thick erection was prodding and then sliding and then smearing against his opening.

            The water stopped and the hardness left, then. And Ellis was pulled upright, outwards, and into the adjacent part of the bathroom. And then he realized why the tub had been filled.

            Ellis stared hard at the water and then to Nick and then back to the water. “Yer weird.”

            Nick shoved him in.

            Managing to catch himself before spilling too much of the surprisingly warm water or hitting his head off the edge, the hick righted himself in the no-longer-still bath and glared up at the conman. Nick climbed in then, pushing his lover to one side so that he could settle his back along the bottom of the tub, head resting on one of the conveniently pillowed edges.

            “Come here.”

            Ellis hunched over and did so, moved his legs on either side of his lover’s, pushing his face closer to the older man’s to press their mouths together eagerly.

            And then Nick spread his ass cheeks, wide.

            The hick jerked up, sloshing the water so quickly and violently that it slapped against the ex-con’s mouth and nose, forcing him to sputter to regain his breath.

            “Jesus, Ellis!”

            “Sorry,” Ellis said, out of habit more than guilt.

            The insistent fingers returned, though, hovering against his lower back just before the curve of his ass. They didn’t move anymore, however, because callused finger’s were clamped firmly over the wrists that connected to the too-curiously zealous hands.

            “Let go.”

            “Ya gonna do that again? ‘Cause I’ll drown ya this time.”

            “No.”

            Ellis released him, mouth quirked in an unsure frown. But when one of the hands moved to re-harden the entirety of his now half-limp cock he hunched forward, letting his lips part and breath rush out.

            And when he was drawn forward and his hips pushed upwards he moved with it willingly and easily. And even though, as the blunt head of Nick’s erection pressed against his entrance, he was worried that water might get in  or soap or something else that wasn’t supposed to go up there, he lowered himself and encased the hard cock to its hilt. And then he held very still.

            Too still to the conman’s liking, apparently, because his other hand squeezed at his hipbone so hard he was sure he’d have a thumb-sized bruise in the morning. He tried to level and plant his feet so that he could lift himself but they slipped against each wet surface he found.

            “There, that’s it. Do that,” Nick breathed.

            “What?” Ellis asked and then clamped his mouth shut. He wasn’t used to asking for things during sex. He didn’t like doing it. He was more than content to let Nick call most of the shots.

            “This,” the conman murmured, drawing his lover’s hips into a circular and unfamiliar motion.

            Ellis had gotten used to their sex. He’d gotten used to the repetitive, pounding movements. He’d gotten used to the jabbing but thrusting of a hard cock in and out of himself. He was used to being pushed and pulled.

            He wasn’t used to the grinding motion forced upon himself.

            He wasn’t used to that constant thick, firmness within him.

            He wasn’t used to the constant pressure.

            He wasn’t used to feeling Nick’s dick against every part of his inside, every wall, every curve, every nerve.

            And he wasn’t sure how to react to that attention coupled with the still-present hand on his own cock.

            The water was swishing against him again, piling up against him and then downwards, cajoled by the circular motion of Ellis’ hips.

            Half his body was chilled by the air. The other half was-too-hot under the warm water, against the tense, equally hot body beneath it.

            The constant repeated presence and disappearance of the water against certain parts of his skin forced a wave of goose-bumps over his body and he shivered.

            When Nick’s hand moved from his hip to his stomach and then his chest he clamped both his over it and held it there.

            And then he groaned deep and let Nick milk him, mark him, and keep him from drowning as he crumpled forward.

 

            “It is different,” Ellis murmured from where he lay, stomach pressed against the crisp, cleanliness of the sheets, the comforters piled against his back so high that only his drying curls and face were visible.

            Nick glanced down through his glasses at him. “What is?”

            “Us an’ bein’ gay.”

            “How do you figure?” the conman asked though his eyes had already returned to the book in his hands.

            “’Cause I still look at girls,” Ellis supplied.

            “Do you?”

            “Yeah.” Of course he did. Girls were pretty and cute and they were meant to be looked at. Men weren’t. “An’ I don’t look at guys. You don’t either, right?”

            Nick shook his head and set his book on the dresser, clicking the lamp off after.

            “Right, so it ain’t gay. ‘Cause I didn’t look at guys afore--…”

            “Ellis?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Shut up.”

            “Okay,” he whispered, moving across the sheets towards his lover.

            And he wasn’t surprised, a little stung, but not surprised when he was turned away.


	8. God, Nick Loves Vegas: Part 2

            Nick was pissed.

            Well, he was _something_ anyway.

            There was a short range of emotions within the conman and those ‘varied’ from pissed to smug and that spectrum didn’t include sadness or hurt or any traits he associated with the feminine gender. And by feminine gender he meant his ex-wife: she had had enough sadness, hurt, jealousy, bitching, sobbing for the both of them. He’d never bothered compounding it with his own.

            Although truthfully he had wondered why he hadn’t felt those things during their fights or after her clawing words.

            When you have to try to force emotion and _still_ fail to do so there was something wrong. Those reactions were supposed to happen on their own and they just hadn’t.

            That’s not to say nick had never felt sad or jealous or depressed. Of course he had. He’d felt it when his dog died. He’d felt it when his mother died. He’d felt it when his unborn child had been killed.

            He’d felt it when Ellis had taken a Tank’s fist to the chest and hadn’t woken until several hours later.

            He’d felt it whenever he caught Ellis on the phone with his mother.

            And he felt it now.

            And honestly, just like all those other times he was so unnerved, so virginal to the emotions that he didn’t know which reactions to apply.

            So he usually acted like he did when he was pissed: like an asshole.

            But this time he wasn’t reacting like an asshole. He wasn’t reacting at all.

            Because truthfully he had no reason to be pissed at the kid, he’d done nothing wrong—not that that had ever stopped him before. Ellis had been honest.

            And Nick had been honest with the hick countless times and Ellis, while having an occasional outburst, would just stare at him patiently, quietly for such long, blue searching periods of time—time for contemplation and understanding—that he had to wonder if his lover was actually a lot smarter than he gave him credit for. Sometimes he wondered if the hick was a lot smarter than himself.

            Because Nick couldn’t be patient and searching and understanding. Neither could he present himself on his sleeve in brashness and raw emotion—whatever he was feeling right now overrode any of that.

            And even now Ellis sat across from him, breakfast plate full and untouched because Nicks’ was full and untouched, with his curved, honest eyes watching.

            Ellis had been honest and that wasn’t what pissed him off—he preferred it that way. Not even his goddamn father had been that way.

            He wasn’t pissed that the kid had been honest in saying he wasn’t gay—neither was he—and he wasn’t pissed that those girls had tried to pick him up—well, at first at least.

            At first it had amused him to no end. Then he’d left, curious to see where it would lead.

            Curious because… because if Ellis had acted on it that would’ve given the conman the incentive to leave. It would’ve given him the cause, the reason, the spark to burn it all away.

            And those thoughts—his own—had been worse than the thought of the southerner plowing some whore.

            He knew Ellis wouldn’t because he knew his lover too well. And he knew how to make bets too well.

            So the nervousness and then the encompassing, crushing elation and relief he felt when the mechanic had climbed into the shower with him were both confusing and _nice_.

            And he’d felt fine, until Ellis’ sleepy confession.

            Yeah, okay, being pissed at the kid for looking at tits could be considered hypocrisy _if_ he was pissed about that aspect of it.

            He wasn’t—the kid could look wherever he wanted. He wasn’t pissed about—he wasn’t _whatever_ he was feeling about it.

            When he looked at Ellis he saw a typical twenty-something. He saw the life he’d had and he’d seen that life shatter. He’d seen where that life would’ve, could’ve, should have gone. And he’d seen that future shatter as well.

            And it had been because of him both times.

            Ellis seemed more than willing to give all that up and just about anything else so that the two survivors could remain together.

            Sometimes, though, especially now after the hick’s pre-sleep comment, Nick wondered if all this had ever been meant for the kid. He came from a family, a background that insisted on the norm—a wife, kids, and a dog.

            And Ellis deserved all of those things. He deserved that life.

            Thought if he ever made mention of it the younger man would, clichéd and predictably, state that Nick was enough and that he didn’t need any of those other things.

            Need, no—want. There was a difference.

            Nick glanced down from his far-off stare into the fascinating beige of the wall above Ellis’ cap to his plate and the fork in his hand, poised above the sausage on his plate. Then he glanced to the mechanic’s before notching his gaze upwards until it settled upon the smooth face.

            Ellis smiled because he’d been waiting. “Y’alright?”

            “Fine,” Nick affirmed. He stabbed into his food and ate, effectively ending their strange little fasting spell and allowing the hick to eat as well.

            “That’s a lie.”

            The older survivor shot his head back up, a little surprised. After Ellis had chewed the food in his mouth down he returned the gaze.

            “I _am_ fine,” Nick said.

            “Somethin’s botherin’ya.”

            “No.”

            “I do somethin’ wrong?”

            Shaking his head and dropping his fork, Nick readjusted in his seat, as if preparing himself for the question. “What’s that?”

            “What?” Ellis blinked.

            “That. Why’s it automatically you? Why can’t it be the waiter or some random piss-head.”

            “C’mon, Nick. It’s always me.”

            The older man snorted, shook his head, and then made sure to cock his face to the side so only his profile was in view.

            It wasn’t his fault the redneck was fuck-all annoying so often.

            And it wasn’t an argument he wanted to indulge in at the moment because it just wasn’t the problem.

            Ellis was a hindrance, an annoyance, a few missing bills in his wallet—but here they were and even Nick knew it was better to leave something so illogical and real as it was and without question.

            “Well, it isn’t you this time.”

            “Oh. Was it the waiter?”

            Nick leaned back in his seat. “Yeah. I think he gave you the once over. You know, since you’re such an obvious fag.”

            “That ain’t funny.”

 

            Ellis had wanted to see the desert. When Nick had insisted they’d already driven through it enough he’d been rebuked by the fact that they had failed to take actual photos of the desolate landscape. Although the conman knew for a fact he’d taken enough when they’d visited Salt Lake.

            And of course the kid had wanted to take the Harley—a decision that was met with more bitching from Nick who he wanted to climb on back.

            Honestly, let the kid take the reins one time during sex and he thought he could pick them up again whenever the fuck he wanted.

            It was Ellis’ bike, yeah, but if the southerner insisted that they both take it out to have a stupid photo-shoot in scenic no-man’s land then the younger man was going to ride on the back. He’d won the argument easily enough but as they drove out he wasn’t sure which scenario would have been worse—riding on back in mortification or suffering he’d had to deal with because of the too-tight grip of his lover’s toned arms as they took advantage of the rare, promising opportunity of such closeness. At least he didn’t have to deal with traffic—mainly because he doubted there were very many people as childishly ridiculous as his lover.

            Luckily as soon as Nick stopped said lover had hopped off and away leaving him to lean his back against the silver vehicle.

            Ellis ran through the dry sand, kicking it into a cloudy puff of tan air that hovered about his lower legs as he shuffled, adding to the floating dust, from one plant to the next, from one angle to another, from one view to the last.

            It had never occurred to Nick that people would willingly waste their time taking pictures of nothing. Because ultimately that’s what the desert was—a dry stretch of land full of dirty and endless sky.

            And he guessed that was pretty in some way, but it would have been a hell of a lot prettier if that stretch of land didn’t happen to be as hot as all fuck.

            Nick didn’t usually have a hard time cooling himself down. He could run a mile without wetting his shirt easily these days. Even so, with the dry, sucking air and looming sun, which was actually preparing to lower itself now that he looked, the sides of his forehead were beading and the back of his neck had gone sticky.

            Ellis, his t-shirt already sticking to the wet skin under the base of his neck and underneath his arms and in the small of his back, seemed to pay it no mind. Sure, he wiped his forehead now and again, but he didn’t let it slow his pace or stop the frantic clicking of his finger on his camera.

            Great; he’d have to shove him in the shower when they got back because the billowing dirt following he’d garnered was most likely adhering as best it could against his skin.

            The redneck turned then and pointed the lens at his lover, pressing the button down.

            “Enough. You remember what happened last time? I’ll make it ten times worse.”

            Ellis grinned at him and took another picture. “You’d hafta catch me first, an’ I think yer lookin’ a little sweaty.”

            “You’re one to talk,” Nick retorted, subconsciously swiping his hand at the back of his neck.

            “Here, take one-a me on the bike.” The camera traded hands.

            Nick backed up out of the way. “Why?”

            “’Cause Keith an’ Dave’ll like it. They ain’t got pictures-a themselves in the desert on their bikes.” Ellis threw one of his legs over the seat and steadied himself atop, palms on the handles.

            Nick was tempted to throw the stupid thing far off and away into the dirt so the kid would have to reach through scorpions to get it rather than take a picture for those two fucks.

            “Please,” Ellis added, knowingly.

            The waited for the hick to smile and took the picture before holding the camera back out.

            “Wait,” his lover said. “I wanna show ya somethin’ cool.” He tossed one of the helmets and his hat to Nick who caught the heavier of the two at the last second, managing to keep the camera in his hand as well, just barely. He let the hat drop.

            The other, lighter helmet of blue that he’d forced the redneck to pick out was fitted onto the curly strands. And then the engine revved.

            Ellis sped off down the thankfully empty length of road, slowing and then doing a sudden one hundred and eighty degree turn supplemented by the placement of his foot and strong leg against the asphalt.

            He wasn’t coming back at Nick quickly, but as he neared he slowed his speed even more. And then his arms tensed and pulled and the front of the bike lifted from the pavement up into the air. Ellis managed, in a swift movement, to align his body with the back of his beloved bike. His feet rested towards the back wheel so that he could use his weight to keep the bike hiked in the awkward position.

            Nick had enough common sense to take a picture before the kid could ‘land’ the wheels.

            Ellis curved the bike back around and laughed through his helmet. “I got one more I wanna try!” He sped off again.

            Where the redneck learned the tricks was all-too-obvious: the two retards back home. Although, until this moment, Nick hadn’t been aware the two had had bikes. Or maybe they shared a bike. Whatever, it didn’t matter whose bike it was just that there was one.

            He had figured he’d heard every last one of the hick’s stories. Hell, he knew some of them so well he could tell them as if he’d been there. And that was partially his fault—whenever the kid asked if he’d heard this story or that and Nick would repeatedly answer yes until the hick’s face fell he’d give in and let one or two be repeated for the thirtieth time in their relationship.

            He couldn’t remember being told a story about the idiots scratching themselves up on their motorcycles after practicing tricks.

            Maybe Ellis had reduced the cameo appearances by his former best friends without the northerner noticing. It wouldn’t surprise him—his lover told so many stories that he often mixed up who said or did what.

            He wondered if he did it on purpose.

            He also wondered if this absent story involved Ellis practicing any of the tricks he was brandishing right now. And he wondered if he’d practiced them on a similar bike.

            And then he got his answer.

            Ellis was slowly cruising back towards him and this time the back of the bike lifted up. The hick’s weight crouched onto the front of his ride, keeping the back wheel elevated and spinning. He managed to keep the bike like this for only a second or two before he lost his balance and was forced to slam his weight back down.

            Unfortunately he must have slammed it down a little too hard because the wheels turned then and Nick didn’t see if it was because of the hick’s careless hands or weight, all he knew was that the bike screeched as it moved into a sideways scream.

            And then it was like slow-motion—that slow-down that happens in everyday life when you’re about to get a face full of gravel or shit or fist, or whatever, and the world just wants you to see how screwed you are _before_ the fact—and he watched Ellis’s weight jerk off the bike with the vehicle’s sudden stop. He landed on his shoulder and had enough sense to ride the motion out, letting himself roll over once, twice, and then onto his back where he let his helmet clank solidly against the concrete.

            “Fucking shit.” Nick didn’t realize he’d   dropped the camera and helmet until he was crouching beside his lover, helping the boy’s shaking, callused hands to remove his blue helmet.

            Ellis’s equally blue eyes stared up at him, clouded over and confused. “…Did I hurt the bike?”

            “You’re a goddamn retard,” the older man snarled. He sat back on his haunches and smoothed his palms down the black of his dress pants, trying to calm their shaking with the repetitive movement.

            The hick sat up slowly. “Man… Guess I needta practice that one, huh?”

            Nick reached out to take his left arm, the arm he’d used as a buffer, the arm that was scratched up and red and bleeding. “No. Next time you want to show me something cool, just don’t.”

            “Aw, that ain’t that bad,” Ellis informed his lover, rolling his gaze over the freckled wounds. “I’ve had worse an’ you know it. Asides when Keith did the same thing on his bike fer the first time he landed on his head!”

            Well, now that he knew the story.

            “How’s your back?”

            The redneck let himself be turned, let his shirt be lifted, let his skin be checked. There were the light-white scratches of barely-there wounds caused by the uneven surface of the ground, but nothing was bleeding. It’d sting a little in the shower, sure, but they weren’t going to leave scars or anything. Good thing, too, because the kid’s back didn’t need more.

            He lowered the shirt and stood up, stopping to hold out his hand. “You’ll live.”

            Ellis looked up at him, took it, and smiled as he was lifted.

 

            “Man, I don’t get how people kin be so mean-ta animals,” Ellis announced. He was perched on the end of their bed, shirt off, with the remote in his un-hurt arm. Nick sat beside him tending to the other.

            He had settled on the animal channel, as he always did. Nick had to wonder sometimes if it was a ploy or some kind of message. Not that he was going to listen, the kid got a motorcycle and a Jaguar, and he could deal with that much.

            Besides, the obsessive compulsive wasn’t going to have some living thing shitting, pissing, and barfing all over their place.

            …Or their cars, whatever. Traveling and having an animal was even more illogical than Nick owning one in the first place.

            When he finished smoothing the rest of the antibacterial cream to the pink-tinged areas and pressed a large bandage over top so that he wouldn’t have to invest several of their smaller ones (which he knew he’d need in the future for the dumb shit) he turned his head so he could see what had his lover so enraptured.

            Animal police and something about abused horses.

            Figured.

            He moved himself around to his lover’s back and began the same motions on the lesser-scratches there.

            “I wish I’d grown up on a farm.”

            “Turn on something else.”

            “Why? I’m watchin’ this.”

            Nick reached his arm over the hick’s shoulder and plucked the remote up from where it had been resting on his muscular thigh. He began clicking through the channels. “Which channel’s the porn?”

            Ellis drew in a deep sigh and reached back for the remote. “Ain’t watchin’ porn. Gimme that.”

            “Hey, I’m the one doing the work, we watch what I want.”

            “Ya gotta pay fer it anyway, don’tchya?”

            “And? You don’t think I have the money?” The northerner looked down to the remote, trying to locate the menu button so he could torment the younger man with fake, horrible-sounding moans and flashes of flesh he was sure the boy had never even seen during their own sexual escapades.

            The hick turned and snapped his hand over the small plastic bar, forcing several buttons to light up. Nick tightened his own grip and pulled. Ellis’ arms came with it.

            “We ain’t watchin’ it.”

            “You’ve watched porn before,” Nick almost laughed.

            “A’course but that don’t mean I wanna watch now.”

            The strong arms, together, wrenched the remote out of Nick’s left hand but the hick didn’t bother shifting, instead he turned the television off over his shoulder. Then he tossed the remote across the room, onto the chair in the corner.

            Nick smiled at the kid as he planted his palms against the bed, on either side of the dress-slacked thighs. “Ain’t dignified?”      

            “Shut up,” Ellis mumbled.

            “Well,” the ex-con sighed, after a few moments of awkward, too-close silence, “if I can’t watch it here I’ll go watch it somewhere else.”

            “Huh?”

            Nick had the feeling that the further he pushed the kid the further he pushed his luck as well. And not his luck with the relationship in general; he’d have to do something fairly terrible to force Ellis to break it off. No, what he was pushing was nothing that was between them. It was something entirely and solely in the mechanic. Something that he couldn’t describe and when he thought about didn’t have a name.

            He guessed he could equate it to his lover’s emotions. Some slow steady build up of grief and stress that would make him pop, drain his energy, and then cap itself with a quiet apology. But the build-up always started again.

            And just as his spark was always Ellis; Ellis’ spark was always Nick.

            Nick had managed to dislodge himself from underneath the redneck so that he could grab his suit jacket, wallet, and cross to the door of the bedroom. “Come on, don’t play stupid. There’s hundreds of strip clubs around here.”

            “We goin’ta one?”

            “Why not?”

            “I don’t wanna.”

            “You don’t _hafta_. I’ll go.” Which had worked out so well the last time when, coupled with Nick’s constant flirting, Ellis had decided to brandish his anger on their breakfast and then later the conman’s nose. The second outburst had been a mistake, sure, but that didn’t mean Nick was ever going to let the kid live it down.

            “Why don’t we do somethin’ new?”

            “Because we did something you wanted to do so now it’s my turn. Besides I thought you liked looking at women?”

            The hick frowned. Well, he pout-frowned. The conman wasn’t sure if the hick knew he combined the two expressions—or how he did it, exactly—but unknowingly or not it was most often a useless tactic.

            Because if Nick wanted to do something he was going to do it.

            And Ellis was going to tag along.

            “Look, I never said you had to come,” Nick said, shrugging the shoulder he had hung his suit jacket over. Then he turned, walked through the rest of their hotel room, and waited in the door of their hotel room, counting softly to himself.

            And then Ellis’ booted feet stomped after, almost in time with the numbers on Nick’s lips.

 

            Ellis still had the frown-pout on his face as he stood up, out of the Jaguar’s passenger seat. When Nick circled around towards him he turned his scrunched face, crinkled chin and all towards the older man, in a showcase of disapproval.

            The neon pink and purples of the strip-club’s signs played off the lines.

            “This where ya metch’yer wife?”

            Nick laughed, loudly as he handed over their cover-charges at the entrance. “You know, shots like those aren’t fair anymore now that I know your mother.”

            The hick didn’t respond, he just touchedd the brim of his hat and followed the older man inside.

            It was a strip-club Nick had been to several times before the infection hit. He’d been considered a regular, a big spender at the bar, nice to all of the girls before actually becoming ‘friends’ with the owner. But when he first walked in and saw all the new, young faces and unfamiliar bodies he was almost afraid he wouldn’t be recognized.

            Almost afraid—until a heavy, meaty arm plopped down onto his shoulders and subsequently pulled him into an equally, meaty, rolled chest. Needless to say Nick was disgusted once he dislodged himself. It helped to know who the arm and body had belonged too—but not by much.

            Ellis was standing behind him, frown replaced with shock and astonishment because someone had actually dared to wrap the ex-con up in a hug. And honestly Nick was extremely tempted to give the protruding gut in front of him a swift punch so the hick didn’t get any ideas in the future.

            Instead he held his hand out, gathered the hick’s shoulder in it, and turned so he was facing both men for introductions. The owner—Sam, a man in his early fifties, heavy, with a crooked smile and oddly bright eyes—didn’t seem to care too much for the lesser-dressed southerner. He focused his attention on Nick, on telling him the changes of the club, asking him if he’d been caught up in that ‘green flu’ business, telling him he could have drinks on the house as long as he was nice to the girls.

            And when Nick glanced back at his lover he was only ever met with the face of Ellis’ hat providing a safety-block concealing the most likely red face.

            Nick settled into the booth he was lead to, sliding across the seat so the hick could move in next to him. Sam said a few more unimportant words before bustling off, hopefully only to return with free drinks. So the older survivor leaned back and placed his arm along the bubble of the booth to dangle above Ellis’ shoulders.

            “Seems like a nice guy,” the hick said right on cue, right on beat with the moment and the less-than arousing music choice in the air.

            “Bullshit,” Nick responded in kind. “You hate the guy because he runs a strip-joint.”

            He watched the gentle face burn. “Well… he’s probably gotta good reason.”

            Nick glanced up at a full-figured brunette who was setting drinks down in front of them—whiskey for Nick and a beer for the hick.

            Not that guessing the kid’s alcohol of choice took good insight or anything.

            Taking his glass within his fingers as the girl bounced away, Nick took a sip and shook his head. “Not really. He likes booze and naked women. There’s your reason.” When the space between Ellis’ brows wrinkled the ex-con found himself leaning closer. “You don’t have to try and like everybody you meet. What’s the point?”

            For the record, Nick didn’t _like_ Sam, no matter how much the club-owner enjoyed his company.

            Sam had provided him with a place to go after fights with his ex. The girls had been a distraction. The bar had given him access to ample amounts of alcohol that he’d needed desperately.

            But Sam himself? He was a man who liked to laugh at himself and anything that sounded remotely like a joke. This might have been charming save for the fact that spit always seemed to fly out along with the laughter. Or the fact that his hand always had some girl’s ass in it.

            He drank too much, ate too much, and was far below Nick’s hygienic approval.

            But Nick was good at faking a smile and had no considerations as to whether he was decent on the inside. His actions benefited the gambler and that had been incentive enough for the repeated visits.

            Ellis hadn’t supplied him with an answer; he’d opted to attack his drink so that he could pretend that’s where his focus really was.

            So Nick looked to the stage.

            There was one thing he could always trust about Sam, one thing he had to praise the blob of a man for—he had damn good taste in women. A lot of the places around, or at least the last time he’d scavenged Vegas, had begun to employ the skinnier girls—the ones who Nick always thought would break their visible bones if they ever happened to stumble.

            Sam kept the normal-sized, buxom women. He always used to say he wanted to see parts of his employees shake every time they took a step, performed a dance move, or wrapped themselves around the poles.

            “You like them skinny?” Nick glanced to Ellis who was still mesmerized by the drink in his hand.

            “What?”

            “What, what? Do you like women or nine-year-old boys?”

            “What?” Ellis laughed this time; at least he finally got a smile from the kid. “Boys?”

            “Come on, some of them are so skinny they have no curves. You can’t like being stabbed by hipbones when you’re—…”

            “Guess not,” the mechanic agreed, hurriedly.

            Nick swallowed down some of his drink and looked back to the stage. “She a good size?” Not that he cared, really, but he figured he’d better get the kid talking before his face started to melt. But, of course, the redneck didn’t respond. “Ellis, nobody in here cares if you look.” He waited a moment. And then another. “Fine. Whatever. Waste of money.”

            And _then_ the capped head lifted.

            “She a good one?” Nick repeated.

            “Yeah.”

            He shouldn’t have asked.

            “Yeah, well she has a bad case of Chlamydia that hasn’t been cleared up yet so I’d stay away.” A woman of generous proportions in all the right places sat next to Nick. Her hand disappeared beneath the line of the table to rest on his thigh and the conman was almost pleased to see his lover’s blue follow it.

            Nick dropped his arm from above the hick to put his hand over the smaller one on his leg and with his other drew her closer. “Three years and no wrinkles, well aren’t you a keeper?”

            “Sam told us you were dead.”

            “Why you believe anything Sam’s ever said is beyond me,” Nick responded, lifting his hand so he could have another taste of his drink. “Not working tonight?”

            “I’m somewhat of a celebrity now, Nicolas,” the woman responded. “I work all around.”

            “Good for you. You working this stage any soon?” The conman looked over his glass at Ellis’ face, all wide blue eyes and crinkled brows.

            “Not until next week.”

            “Too bad, could’ve shown the kid a good time.” Nick nodded towards his lover. “This is Ellis. Ellis, this is Deanne. She used to work here full time.” She also used to be the only clean stripper in the place. She also used to be the main woman he’d screw behind his ex’s back.

            She’d been clean, easy to win over, and far too nice to look at. And she had darker hair. His ex had been a natural blonde and he’d searched everywhere for the exact opposite of her. And then he’d remembered Deanne.

            While his ex had been skinny, bitchy, loud, Deanne had been all curves and agreements and quiet smiles. And luckily she hadn’t come with any strings attached or hard feelings.

            The conman felt like he’d fallen somewhere in between with his latest relationship. The smiles and agreements were there in loud, ranting tones and he was constantly wrapped up and flailing in the strings.

            And the hard feelings at the moment were all too readily readable on the hick’s face.

            Deanne held out her hand and Ellis took it, gently and gentlemanly, giving it a light squeeze with his fingers. And then she was standing up, smoothing out the barely-there skirt of her dress. If she moved the wrong way the kid was going to get an eye full.

            “I’ve got to get going to another gig,” she announced. “Stop by before you leave town, asshole.”

            Ellis watched her leave. Although which part of her he was watching Nick didn’t know.

            So he decided to call him out on it: “She’s got six years on you, Overalls.”

            “Guess that makes her right perfect fer you.”

            Dammit if the kid wasn’t getting too good at those shots. Nick reached for a cigarette pack that wasn’t there—hadn’t been there for days. “Dammit.”

            “Don’t run in-ta yer ex but some stripper ya slept with. Great road trip.” Ellis crossed his arms, like a goddamned teenager.

            “Don’t start,” the older man warned.

            “Well, how many others do I hafta worry ‘bout runnin’ inta?”

            It was a question the redneck didn’t really want the answer for so Nick didn’t answer. It was a question that was bound to serve him a few sexless nights even though there would be silent peaceful days to accompany them. It was a question that was just fucking stupid.

            Because why did the kid have to worry? Why’d he have to be jealous? Of strippers? Of women he’d had one-night stands with?

            Granted, the kid was jealous by nature. Jealous, protective, all those backwashed-hillbilly codes of conduct and honor that shouldn’t have been applied to their relationship.

            But that he was jealous over past flings? If Nick wanted to plow some whore he would’ve done it by now. If he’d wanted meaningless sex with random people he never would’ve let the southerner tag along.

            And honestly those random flings of rushed automatic sex, thrusting and panting just to get off on revenge? As much as he’d cringed the first time he’d thought the revelation, as much as he was going to keep silent on it and never admit it aloud; sex with Ellis was the best he’d ever had.

            Jealous over strippers? Nick was pretty sure they’d established their weird, whatever-the-fuck relationship they had with one another. They’d established that it was separate from any other sexual desires they had. Neither man looked at any other man.

            And even though Ellis had claimed he still looked at women, Nick had never once seen his eyes on any other person when they could’ve been on him.

            And he wondered if his hick had said those things just because they’d been instilled and ingrained as the proper course of action. If he’d said them just because he knew that’s what Nick did. If he’d said them because he didn’t want to be embarrassed or—worst-case-scenario—hurt that he was the only one in the relationship looking only inward.

            Even now, as pissed and jealous and uncomfortable Ellis was, he was still looking at Nick.

            And he could look in anger, happiness, lust, sadness—hell, he could even look away for a few seconds—but the looks, the emotions, the raw truth was always there.

            Nick hoped he didn’t pick up that particular habit.

            Moving close to the boy, the ex-con let his arm drape across the curve of that balloon pseudo leather for a moment before plopping it atop Ellis’ broad shoulders. He moved his face closer. “So what’s pissing you off right now? The fact that I fucked Deanne or the fact that I’m looking at strippers instead of you? Weren’t you the one who said you still looked at women?”

            Ellis’ hands shook from where they gripped at the folds in his jeans and it shouldn’t have felt good and guilty and satisfying to make him jealous. Shouldn’t have felt that good to prove his point so well that it actually shamed the other man.

            Because whether Ellis had a hard time looking because he was committed in their relationship or that he truly only _wanted_ to look at Nick was irrelevant so long as it was truth.

            So he curled his fingers around the back of the mechanic’s neck, shook him, finished his drink, and then got up from behind the table. “Let’s go get drunk and gamble.”

            The redneck followed, relieved and obedient.

 

            Nick had won the last five hands at their poker table within the casino of their hotel. His intentions were to make it six, maybe even take it to ten before retiring with the money. After all, their table had earned a small, murmuring crowd who wanted to see how far the big spenders would go.

            The sixth game, however, was when Ellis decided he wanted to try his own luck.

            Surprisingly the hick had managed to survive the first few, glare-hardening moments. He’d managed to keep his face straight and blank enough to cause two of the other players to fold first.

            But Nick wasn’t really paying attention to his lover because he wasn’t the threat. The man next to him, the man dressed just as nicely as he was, the man who had just joined there game was the one he was worrying about.

            Well, that was until he got dealt the exact card he needed to complete the straight flush he’d been building towards.

            After which he promptly pushed the majority of his remaining, docile chips forward, leaned back in his seat, cards tucked neatly together and obscured by his palm, and waited.

            The well-dressed man beside him regarded his own cards a moment, solemnly. As he should have. Nick’s large bet wasn’t a ploy, wasn’t an attempt to raise the stakes further. It was the signal that the game needed to end. It was a signal that the ex-con had already won.

            He was sure his rival had a decent hand, maybe three of a kind or a full house, but there was a very small probability that he had anything that would prove useful against Nick.

            And then he pressed his cards to the table.

            Many people around them murmured, some walked away, most stayed. And the northerner didn’t know why.

            But when Nick looked back towards the dealer, expecting to have his chips shoved at him in a more orderly, neat fashion, Ellis pushed the rest of his chips into the bet and answered his un-voiced question.

            The chips enough and the dealer told him so.

            “Well…” The hick rifled around in his pocket and then produced glinting silver. He pressed his keys against the table. “That good enough?”

            Nick nodded, somewhere between bewilderment and amusement. He looked to the rest of his chips.

            Raising them would make it an even bet he hadn’t expected of the game.

            He’d been teaching the kid how to play cards, yeah, but that was because it was much easier for Ellis to talk random tourists and drunks into playing against him in bars. His attire and southern, easy-going attitude was more than enough to beguile Nick’s marks into trusting and liking him. The conman intended to take full advantage of it.

            But he hadn’t taught his lover thinking the kid would play against him in a game. Not that this game mattered. Win or lose nothing would change hands. The truck would remain in the hick’s hands, the money in Nick’s.

            And the redneck didn’t have a good hand, Nick knew. He had a decent one, one that lead the hick into believing that he had a chance. But that chance was, for the most part and in any other circumstance, useless against high-rollers, cheaters, and conmen.

            And if Nick raised the stakes some more, called the kid out on his cards, he’d win the game and Ellis would laugh about how he needed more practice. And that would be it. They’d go and get drunk.

            But the gambler pressed his cards down to the table anyway. “Fold.” And watched the small circular chips that represented _his_ money redirect towards the hillbilly.

            The crowd around them dispersed immediately. Some congratulated the grinning Ellis, unknowingly, on winning his own money.

            The hick led them away from the table, towards the start of the casino and the end of the hotel lobby so that he could cash his chips. As they waited the younger man turned to his elder. “Guess I get-ta buy tonight.”

            Nick nodded.

            Ellis smiled. “What was yer hand?”

            “Straight flush.”

            “I only had a full house.”

            Nick hadn’t needed to be told.          

           

            Ellis was drunk.

            Now, if Nick had had to pick one stereotype that he had, without a doubt, believed before the infection—before living in  Savannah—it was that rednecks loved their beer and had a fairly high tolerance for alcohol. A tolerance that the slack-jawed inbreds were constantly trying to push forward.

            His companion could hold beer, yeah. He could throw them back, suck them down, and appear almost completely un-phased. Put hard liquor in front of him, one too many shots thrown back and far too many drinks that were gone before Nick had gotten a chance to discern what they were, and you had a completely different kid.

            It was easy to get him tipsy; in fact they made it a habit to get tipsy more than once a week. But to get the kid plastered was a difficult task in itself.

            Whenever he did accomplish that task, however, he had to deal with the consequences. And the most apparent and screaming consequence was the increase in Ellis’ perceived necessity to be constantly _touching_ the conman.

            Although, at least it made getting to the elevator less-strenuous.

            Ellis hadn’t let go of his arm since he’d first grabbed it, during their joint-drinking binge paid for with the hick’s ‘winnings.’

            Even now the kid’s face was pressed tightly to the back of his arm and into his tricep. He was mumbling something but it was obscured by the nice, expensive fabric he was currently ruining.

            He pressed the button to their floor and watched the lobby disappear from sight.

            “Nick.” Ellis released his arm and stood, rickety and rocking, against the back of the elevator. “Look.”

             “At what?” Nick asked, smoothing the sleeve of his jacket.

            “A’me. Lookit.”

            The gambler sighed and turned to his lover who was still standing far too close. Especially regarding the fact that he was attempting to pull his t-shirt over his head without removing his hat, which then promptly plopped to the floor along with the tanned-colored shirt.

            Nick smirked and leaned back against the wall, head still turned towards the shirtless man.

            Ellis grinned a little and then his arms were back around his older lover, around his stomach and shoulders. And then he pressed his face firmly into the stubbled neck to purse his lips against the warm skin there.

            Turning his head to give the insistent kisses more access, Nick drew his own hand up his lover’s back, ducking his fingers along the dip of his spine. And as if this were a permission of some sort the mechanic pressed closer and slipped his touch down to the front of the conman’s slacks, to cover the rapidly hardening arousal beneath.

            Green eyes flickered dangerously close to shutting, and Nick would’ve shut them too if it hadn’t been for the too-wet drag of an over-zealous tongue along his throat and over his pulse point. Whenever Ellis got drunk, tipsy or fall-on-his ass drunk, the kid would always slather his spit all over him. It was like Nick was covered in goddamn whipped cream or something.

            “Ellis.”

            There was a slurp from his neck. “S’clean.” But the wet trail continued down his neck, forward towards his adam’s apple. The redneck took advantage of the new position to massage the bulge in his hand with a soft gripping pulse of fingers and palm.

            And then the doors slid opened slowly.

            And there stood a plump, dark-eyed girl, probably sixteen or so and on vacation with her parents. She dropped the coke in her hand, letting it stain the carpet beneath her.

            Nick waved at her as the doors slipped shut.

            By the time the goddamn elevator reached their floor Ellis had already begun working on the buttons of the ex-con’s dress shirt, one slow button at a time. Well, it seemed slow anyway, considering the fumbling incoherence of callused fingers challenged by sloppy but soft and deliciously attentive lips after.

            The doors parted again and Nick, careful in separating himself from his almost-kneeling lover, stepped out. He left the suit jacket and shirt open, carelessly, just as he left the smirk on his face carelessly.

            “Your stuff, Overalls,” Nick said, not bothering to look back.

            But he heard the hick pause, and then several seconds later felt the full brunt of his weight as Ellis crashed into him from behind. He managed to stabilize their combined pounds and lifted his arms to accommodate the searching arms that wound about his torso and then the curly head that popped out from behind his left flank.

            Nick wasn’t exactly sure how they managed to make it to their room door with the ridiculous clinging position. Not that it mattered once he got the fucking door open, because once he had access he had the hick pressed to the nearest wall faster than he could figure out how he had accomplished the feat.

            And their door was shut. And there was a bed a couple rooms over. And he was damn tempted to throw the brat over his shoulder and sprint right towards it… if it weren’t for the obvious backache he’d have to nurse in the morning.

            Not that he hadn’t done it before and come out unscathed. But he was tipsy. And the hick was far-gone. And judging by the squirming, panting, already-glistening body beneath him he had a better chance of getting a foot in the dick than a mouth on it.

            So he turned the mechanic around harder than he should have by the shoulder and shoved. Surprisingly, and to the northerner’s relief, Ellis used the momentum to straighten out his uneven gait towards their bedroom.

            And Nick waited until the kid glanced back over to follow. And he made sure the hick was still watching as he slipped his jacket and then shirt off. And he made sure the blue eyes watched him work the buckle of his belt, relax the leather hold, and deposit the brown strip onto to the floor next to the couch.

            Ellis backed into the wall loudly. He gave a little, sheepish grin and skimmed his hands over the beige surface to guide himself through the opening a little to his left because his eyes were too busy to find it for him.

            Nick unbuttoned the clasp of his pants and dragged the zipper down. And Ellis collapsed back on the bed and as if in response slapped his own hands down to undress himself as well.

            The gambler closed the door behind himself and watched. Because his lover wasn’t even looking at the task at _literal_ hand. His head was back against the comforter, neck stretched and head turned so he could keep his eyes on the approaching man. And somehow he managed to get his pants undone and, coupled with his boxers, pushed down to the middle of his thighs.

            The muscular legs lifted and met Nick as he moved to the edge of the bed. He caught the ankles and held them as far apart as the pants would allow.

            “What’re you doing?”

            “Take ‘em off,” Ellis almost-ordered.

            Nick waited.

            “Please?”

            Slipping his hand down the expanse of jeaned-legs, the conman reached the rumpled hem and pulled. The offending pants came off relatively easy considering how the hick moved and lifted and angled his legs, spreading himself openly and for once unashamed before his elder lover.

            Nick tossed them aside and replaced his hands. And then he spread Ellis’ legs, revealing every curve of the redneck’s most intimate areas to the green eyes.

            It was a first. Ellis was quick to cover himself up, quick to turn away, and quick to embarrassment. It never mattered that Nick was pounding into his ass or that he was enjoying it—it was the fact that he could be _seen_ enjoying it.

            And right now, at that moment, Ellis didn’t give two shits who knew.

            The hick needed to get shitfaced more often.

            The two men leaned towards each other, the older down and younger up, to press their lips together with drunken reverence. Nick smoothed his tongue out over the thick lips beneath him and then inside, slicking himself, his taste over every crease and curve of the mechanic’s mouth.

            Ellis moaned aloud and clamped his arms around his lover, tightly, pulling, crushing. He wanted Nick against him.

            Nick, however, moved back and away. He knocked the stretching legs to the side and pressed down on the muscled back below him, pressing the younger man into the bed. “Lube.”

             The boy obeyed immediately, stretching along the length of the bed to reach over the end towards Nick’s travel bag so he could bury his hands inside.

            And Nick was about to lay himself atop the boy, just to compound and delay the search. As he moved down, however, his eyes were caught by one of the tables tucked against the opposing wall. Well, caught by the camera atop it, anyway.

            As the ex-con made his way over he managed to shimmy out of his pants and boxers, letting them trail along the floor behind him. And he picked up the small machine and fumbled with the buttons, much like Ellis was fumbling through the clothes and papers and whatever the hell else his hands could shove aside in search for the tiny bottle.

            By the time it was held up, Nick was already lying down atop him, pressed hot chest to warm shoulders, tight stomach to tensed lower back, hard arousal to lifting ass. Ringed fingers hooked into the curves of Ellis’ hips, where hip morphed into leg.

            The curled head turned, the smooth face crinkled, and Ellis’ voice lifted out again.

            “Gonna take me like this?”

            “Depends on how you want to cum.” Nick let his weight shift back to his feet, let his warmth leave his lover.

            And Ellis jutted his hips back. The movement curved his shoulders high and the small of his back low. The movement protruded his ass. The movement exposed him, yet again to hungry eyes.

            “On my back… but I wanna…” Ellis held up their lube.

            Nick took it and didn’t wait, didn’t bother to put it anywhere they didn’t need it, didn’t bother to stretch or prepare the drunken hick who was so wantonly and uncharacteristically presenting and _offering_ himself.

             So as soon as the bottle left his hand and his dick was wet and so hard it was almost curved in its stature he pulled the younger body up, away from the comforter. When, with a lewd and stomach-clenching spread of the supple ass cheeks, Nick viewed the portal between it was the end of his stamina.

            He thrust in to the hilt, hard and deep and stabbing.

            And Ellisdrew out his lover’s name in a wrenching, lustful moan, the loudest he’d ever given in three years time.

            Nick forced the strong chest down, against the maroon of the thick blankets while keeping the clenching, rocking hips up in his hands. Keep the angle perfect, hot, and open enough for him to slide, slick and loud, back and forth.

            He forced the boy’s cock down, to point to the carpeted floor, to press against the side of the bed with each thrust, out of finger’s reach.

            And with every wet slap of testicles and cock Ellis groaned aloud, called Nick’s name, and once or twice whispered a quiet little, “please.”

            Goddamn, he had to get him shitfaced more often.

            “Please what?” Nick asked the last time.

            He got a grunt in response, ten reaching, desperate fingers on his wrists, and a shudder that began in the hick’s shoulders and ended in Nick’s breath.

            Nick knew what he wanted but he didn’t pull out or move away. Instead he increased his thrusts. He increased the slapping, jabbing, claiming, marking, fucking, loving until the body beneath him was tight and laced with its release.

            Ellis groaned a mixture of relief, want, and remorse towards the end of the tryst.

            But when the southerner became pliant and loose Nick pulled out, took him by the arm, and flipped him over as if he didn’t weigh more than a small child.

            And Ellis spread his thighs knowingly, excitedly. The conman pushed them up further and the mechanic clasped his hands to the back of his knees to hold them in place close to his chest.

            His eyelids were low, his nostrils were flared, his lips were wet.  And although the comforter was stained with his seed his cock was hard and straight and leaking.

            Nick plunged in again, dropping his shoulders down so he could lock the hick’s legs in place. So those arms were freed up. So he was closer to that thick mouth. So he was deeper.

            Ellis’ arms were around him once again, his lips were parted and moving in quiet, hushed words of arousal and love and questions in the desperate tone only inebriation could wring out of the boy.

            The gambler kissed his younger companion, swallowing up the would-be-bellowed moan from the accented voice with teeth and tongue and spit.

            He increased the speed and rhythm and strength of his thrusts. Because he wanted the boy dragging back and forth, the bed grunting and creaking, the comforter hissing against skin.

            He tightened the curl of his fingers into the flesh of his lover’s thighs. Because he wanted small, possessive bruises that would pang with a dull reminder of activities the mechanic wouldn’t be able to recall.

            But he relaxed his kiss and moved his mouth back, just barely. Because he wanted to hear his name, demanded and begged, all at once.

            And when one of his hands moved to take his lover’s cock within its grasp, to work the skin up and down, to graze and tease the head, he got the voice he wanted.

            “Nick…” A deep breath. “Nick.” Another. “Nick, Nick.” And more, rapid, in succession, his name becoming a beckoning mantra to help the impending orgasm along and out of its already over-sensitized exit.

            Nick didn’t last much farther than that. The repetition of his name, the tightening bundle of hot, slick muscle and nerves he was thrusting into, the blue eyes opening and watching and happy beneath him.

            He came, hard, within his lover, pinning himself in as far as he could possibly go, wanting his seed there, wanting it to shoot so far it would never seep back out again.

            And when the heavy weight of reality and the dull pound of his pulse of his ear drew him back down, Nick realized the kid had come again, all over his hand and their stomachs.

 

             Nick had just finished taking his first sip of hot, black coffee when Ellis woke. Well, more like when Ellis groaned like he’d been shot and was left to bleed out.

            The gambler didn’t turn back to look at the hung-over southerner, however. He just put his mug down on their room desk, the desk he was currently working at, and returned one hand to the keyboard of his laptop and the other to the mouse.

            His lover groaned again and this time he looked up into the mirror that adorned the wall in front of him. It reflected the bed, where the kid was currently propped up with all the pillows and blankets piled around him.

            “Knock it off, you’re the one who kept drinking.”

            “…I betch’ya had somethin’ta do with it,” Ellis retorted. He lifted his head and blinked open his eyes several times before plopping back down against the soft fabrics. “I hurt.”

            “Nightstand.”

            Ellis slapped his hand out, missing the Tylenol and water bottle the elder man had left out after he’d emerged from his shower. The fingers sifted for a moment longer and found them.

            The hick downed them along with more than half of the water bottle. “I’m never drinking again.”

            “Like _hell_ ,” Nick murmured. He unplugged his laptop from the wall and mouse and rose, carrying the sleek notebook towards the bed.

            “What happened?”

            He sat down besides his unhappy companion and propped the screen up so they both could view it. “You won at cards and bought drinks.”

            “You let me win,” Ellis corrected. “I remember all that. What’d I drink? …What’d you make me do?”

            “You were the one instigating it all, hillbilly. Or begging. Whichever. All I know,” Nick said, lips curved, “is that I had to deal with our ‘neighbors’ this morning because you wouldn’t stop moaning last night.” He drifted his finger over the touch-pad of his laptop.

            And on the screen a movie, the movie he’d recorded last night using the hick’s own goddamn camera, played. And as that accented voice, moaning, begging, repeating filled the air Ellis slipped the blankets over his head, hiding himself from sight.

            And Nick promptly yanked it back down.

            


	9. God, Ellis Loves Savannah

            The drive to Savannah had to have been the most boring for Ellis to endure considering the lack of mountains or new sights that he had been used to seeing. Not to mention that it was the longest of their drives to reach their destination.

            Driving separately wasn’t helping the redneck either.

            Both men had to wake and drive the same hours now—early morning to late night—and it exhausted Ellis who had been used to the radically different nightly hours. As such whenever they did stop for the night he was usually too tired to do more than collapse upon one of the beds and sleep straight through until morning.

            Not that that bothered him—served Nick right the way he saw it on account of his lover had yet to erase drunken footage of Ellis from his laptop.

            However, the lack of intimacy didn’t seem to trouble the gambler too much. He’d been in a good mood for the better part of the last couple days. Of course, there were those occasional slip-back moments Nick underwent because there was always something that could set him off.

            So, Ellis guessed because he didn’t really know how Nick felt right at that moment; he’d flashed a smile after their lunch as he climbed into the Jag, though which was a good sign. The redneck also guessed that his mood had everything to do with them finally having gone to Vegas and earning some extra money

            And truthfully the hick couldn’t have been more pleased with their trip. Well, maybe not Vegas itself, seeing as he’d been jerked between emotions more times than a bipolar who had lost their medication. And really he still didn’t know how to feel regarding the entire situation.

            For one, he had Nick, smiling, relaxed, and agreeable. Those qualities in themselves had been hard to wrangle from the older man during the entire length of their relationship. That the city had done something so easily that befuddled and downright confused the mechanic wasn’t fair.

            Of course, it wasn’t the city itself that had done it, Ellis knew that. It was some activity or maybe _activities_ that had boosted the conman’s mood so high that a decently-lengthed grace period would surely follow… as long as Ellis ensured it, anyway.

            Still, what activities could’ve made him so much happier? It didn’t seem like they had done anything genuinely special in the city, besides enjoy each other’s company.

            Then again, Ellis wasn’t used to stealing money and oogling mostly-naked women. And he honestly hadn’t felt too right about having done either, especially the latter. Because when he had won the money Nick had been impressed and even happy.

            But when they had gone to the strip joint his lover had been condescending and apathetic. And the questions and things he’d said. It had been as if he was testing and scrutinizing the boy just to see how long it would take until he popped with no care for any other emotions involved besides anger or jealousy or whatever he’d been expecting to find.

            None of that had been helped by the people he’d met there.

            The redneck liked most people he met, no matter how others felt about them. And he couldn’t rightfully say he didn’t like the people he’d met because he couldn’t remember saying a word to either of them. Even so just because he was obligated to like them didn’t mean he trusted them. And so he didn’t want to think about anything beyond that.

            Thinking bad of people based on things he didn’t know for sure wasn’t right. He’d been taught better than that. And the only reason he knew he didn’t trust them was because of what Nick had told him.

            They did whatever it took to make money. Nick said the same about himself and yet he hadn’t seemed to have been too fond of either the manager nor the dancer, though Ellis knew better than to accept that understatement in regards to the latter.

            He didn’t want to ask Nick because he didn’t need to ask.

            And it made him mad.

            Because any association with those kinds of people created one between _those_ kinds of activities and Nick.

            And Nick was someone he admired and idolized. Yeah, it would be naïve and immature to ignore the truth of the matter so that he could keep the gambler in such high regards. But Nick, with all secrets revealed, potentially characterized everything he’d been brought up to avoid—drunkenness, thievery, bribery, promiscuity, and hedonism.

            And that made him mad because how could someone who was so cool be a dirtbag underneath all of it?

            And the more Ellis thought about it the harder his head pounded.

            Because he realized that any of his actions could’ve been looked at in a relative way From what he knew Nick had left home after his mother had died, gotten mixed up with a bad crowd where he’d learned most his tricks and probably all of his shitty qualities. His wife had followed after that and then their divorce. Jail—time happened too soon afterward and then with his freedom he’d supposedly cut old ties while continuing to implement the same skills.

            So he guessed, since Nick had cut those ties, maybe he’d learned. The following conning and whatever else had been necessary to survive.

            That made sense.

            It didn’t stop the churning his gut or the helium-like, painfully cold rush pounding throughout his chest, though.

            The fact that Nick had probably slept with most the girls in that damn bar hadn’t helped, either.

            And so, with the realization of his jealousy—jealousy over those women and over Nick’s life before and anybody who had known him during that life and the fact that he’d even had to live that life—Ellis also realized that his pounding head and all too-light body weren’t because of the mixed, panicked thoughts and doubts—well, not only anyway.

            By the time he pulled his truck over and all but kicked the door open he was already vomiting onto the ground.

            He had enough sense to circle around his ride, away from the roadway to continue emptying his lunch all over the gray stones and dirt.

            He couldn’t have had much sense though because he had to wonder if his sickness was somehow linked to his insecurities. And he didn’t know if those were even based on Nick or because maybe he was lacking important qualities himself.

            His body heaved again, brown and yellow sludge splatting against the earth near his boots. His stomach groaned and then his body wracked in response so hard the hick’s knees buckled.

            He managed to catch himself on his palms even as the rest of the barely-digested food slipped from his throat.

            A minute or so later his lunch stopped coming. His shoulders continued to tighten and jerk, however, so he tried to press the back of his hand to his lips to convince his body that he was in fact finished. It didn’t believe him.

            It finally stopped when his face was so close to the ground he swore he was breathing in dirt instead of air.

            A hand settled between his shoulder blades and he turned back to meet his lover’s eyes.

            “You done kissing the asphalt?”

            Ellis wiped his mouth. “Yeah, nothin’ left.”

            Nick slipped his sleeve up and pressed the soft, veined underside of his wrist to the younger man’s forehead. “…Damn.”

            “That bad?”

            “Bad enough to make me wonder how the hell you managed to drive for so long.”

            “I’m fine,” Ellis assured. “My stomach just didn’t agree with what I ate, I’m guessin’.”

            “Yeah?” Nick pulled on his arm gently and then as the younger man began to stand pressed his hand against the back of his elbow to ensure the energy used wouldn’t be only his sickened lover’s. “How’re you going to explain the fever you have?”

            Ellis reached up to his forehead, forcing his hat backwards because he wasn’t as careful or care-full.

            “You done?” the gambler asked, purposely avoiding having to look down for the answer himself. “Because if you puke on me that’s it; me and the Jag are gone.”

            The hick smiled at him. “Ain’t gonna puke on ya, Nick. Sorry, ‘cause I know how muchya loved them Boomers an’ Spitters.”

            “Real funny. Think you can drive twenty more minutes or so, until we find a hotel?”

            “I already called my ma an’ said we’d be there tonight!”

            “Well,” Nick tried to match his lover’s tone as he led him back to the open door of his truck, and around the small pile of vomit that had been spilled, “call her again and tell her you’re sick. You aren’t going to make it far if you have to yak every couple of minutes.”

            Ellis hefted himself onto his seat and leaned his head back, brows drawn.

            “Don’t give me that look,” his conman said, voice low in warning. “You really want to crash your truck and get yourself killed? I’m sure you rednecks love dying in your trucks and everything but I really don’t have to have to face your mother on that one.”

            Begrudgingly, said redneck pulled his seatbelt down across his chest and then clicked it into place. Then he curled his fingers around his steering wheel. “Woulda been fine.”

            “Shut up already,” Nick ordered, reaching up to pull his cap back down, tight onto his scalp. “Pull over again if you need to.” And then he shut the door.

 

            Ellis was left sleeping in their hotel room, in the bed closest to the door with the blankets piled high around him and the air conditioner blasting. He was lying prone on his side but the nausea and constant churning of his stomach made him feel like he was floating in that wave pool back in Salt Lake all over again.

            Occasionally the waves allowed him to doze off but they would always sweep him right back into waking. And if it wasn’t the waves it was the opening and closing of the door behind him, something he cursed himself for considering he’d been the one to collapse on that particular bed upon entering.

            Though he did manage to glare over his shoulder a few times at Nick, who continued to reenter repeatedly and almost in rapid succession—well it seemed that way to the deliriously-dozing hick. When he glanced to the clock he realized that it was at least forty minutes to an hour between the older man’s entrances.

            Tylenol had accompanied him the first time, NyQuil the second, and the last time, this time, a bag that crinkled a little bit with any movement.

            Ellis rolled from his side onto his back and instantly regretted it as his companion tapped the base of the lamp in between their beds, basking the room in light. The mechanic groaned, loudly.

            “Suck it up,” Nick responded. “You’ve been sleeping for five hours.”

            “Ain’t been sleepin’ fer all of it.”

            “Pills didn’t help?”

            “Not really.”

            “Well,” the gambler murmured, sitting on the empty space of his younger’s bed, “you’ll eat something and take some NyQuil. Did you call your mom yet?”

            “Yeah,” Ellis said, pushing himself up against the soft pillows behind him. He rested his hands against his stomach.

            “She agreed with me, didn’t she?” Nick smirked, already knowing the answer as he withdrew some of the food from the bag to lay it against the crinkle of the blankets.

            The sick man didn’t answer, just watched the food resting against his bed: a can of soup, crackers, and a water bottle. “…I might puke up that soup.”

            “Then just eat the crackers and have some water.” The soup can was taken away and placed back in the plastic bag it had come from. “Trust me; those crackers will be harder for you to get back up.”

            Ellis’ stomach gurgled. “Do I hafta?”

            “Yes.”

            “You ain’t eatin’,” he tried.

            “Already did. Eat and then take that NyQuil.”

            With a sigh Ellis opened the box laying before him, pulling out one of the skinny sleeves and opening that too before divesting one of the crackers into his mouth. He mulled over the softening bread-like food and watched as Nick disappeared into the bathroom.

           

            When he woke next only one of the lamps, the one furthest away and next to Nick’s bed, was on. It was dimmed and shining just where the older man needed it so that he could read from his book.

            It couldn’t have been that long since he’d fallen asleep because his lover’s hair was still damp from his shower, the wet strands against his head in disarray serving to accent the fading youthfulness of his face, instead of slicked back like usual. His glasses were perched low on his nose.

            Ellis’ water bottle, crackers, and the bottle of NyQuil were sitting on the desk in between the beds.

            “Nick,” he tried to whisper but it was more of a hoarse call to both their ears, “you can turn on more lights if you needta.”

            Upon hearing his name the conman turned his head and frowned. “Why are you awake? Did you take the NyQuil?”

            “…I forgot,” Ellis said, only just realizing now himself. He couldn’t even remember finishing more than a few crackers and a couple gulps of his water.

            Nick sighed and let his book drop onto the bed without marking his place. He stood and walked around his bed and in a few strides was standing by the desk between them, pouring the purple liquid into the tiny cup that came with the bottle.

            Ellis eyed it when it was presented to his face but took it and bucked it back so he would only have to endure one gulp. Even so it was still bitter against the back of his tongue and he grimaced at Nick to let him know it.

            “There,” the northerner murmured. “That’ll take you out in about fifteen minutes.” And then he returned to his bed, to his position, to his page.

            The hick watched him through one eye; the other was pressed and hidden by the bulb of the pillow that had cushioned up in front of his left cheek. Nick didn’t look back.

            It didn’t surprise Ellis. It couldn’t have, anyway, he was already far too surprised by the fact that Nick had even bothered sharing a room with him. They had far more than enough money for his lover to have gotten his own room seeing how paranoid he was about getting sick.

            But he was still lying there, reading.

            So the redneck got up, threw back the covers on the left side of the bed, climbed in and joined him. As soon as he pulled the blankets back up, to the line of his jaw, Nick turned to him.

            “…How long since you last threw up?”

            “It was juss that one time,” Ellis assured.

            “Not when I was gone?”

            “I said I didn’t.”

            There was another sigh and a turn of one of those pages. But several long seconds passed and he was still in the bed with the sighing-reader so he moved closer.

            “You mad at me?”

            “Why? Because you have a fever and climbed in bed with me meaning I’ll be puking in a few days?” Nick gave a sideglance.

             “’Cause-a Vegas.”

            “Why?” Nick asked, voice genuine. “What’d you do in Vegas?”

            “I dunno,” Ellis murmured his head back on his pillow, eyes to the right. “Why’djya leave me with them girls? Or take me-ta that strip club?”

            “Seriously?”

            “You knew I didn’t wanna go,” the younger man said. “Why’d we hafta?”

            “I don’t know; it gave us something to do.”

            “Gave me people-ta meet.”

            “We already went over this, didn’t we?”

            The southerner supposed they had, sort of. “I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout her. I’m talkin’ ‘bout why we went there in the first place… ‘Cause I said I like women still?”

            Nick sighed again, because he did that too often for his younger lover’s liking, and threw his book above Ellis’ head, onto the desk where it slid, hissed, and paused. And then the light went out.

            Ellis listened to the dark and the sound of Nick shuffling down below the blankets and then back against the pillow. He listened to the annoyed breaths irregular and uneven. And then he listened as the larger body turned and faced him.

            “I used to go to strip clubs all the time. Why does it have to have something to do with you?”

            “I dunno,” Ellis admitted again, lowly. “I juss don’t get why yer tryin’ so hard to see fer yerself when I already toldjya.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Well, I’m pretty sure you didn’t look up until I made you.”

            “’Cause that ain’t right-ta look at ladies like that. ‘Sides, when I said I still look at ‘em I didn’t mean-ta date.”

            “Just to fuck,” Nick responded, voice dark like the room.

            Now that just downright didn’t make any sense, and Ellis wanted to say so aloud, but he couldn’t form the words—not without sounding defensive. But still, who was Nick to criticize him? If there were breasts he was flirting with the owner. If there were short skirts his head was turning every which way to eye each one as they stretched upwards.

            The redneck wasn’t one to woo a girl for one night, take what he wanted, and leave. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t safe. Especially not when you’re already in a relationship.

            Nick _had been_ that kind of guy. Was he still that kind of guy?

            And that’s what bothered Ellis the most—the thought that Nick would do it all over again if the mechanic ever gave him reason, or even a chance. The thought that those three years were… he wasn’t sure what it all was to Nick. It was so much to Ellis—so much that he would probably have to hire some famous writer to pick out the words for him.

            But if he had turned his head, if he had drank too much to notice, if he hadn’t wanted sex one night, if he had let Nick go alone to that strip club—would he still be in that bed beside him?

            He wanted to believe that allowing him to tag along, hell, even letting those girls openly hit on him, was some weird test of the conman’s. And as unfair and cruel as that was if that had been the case it wouldn’t have bothered the southerner one bit.

            How could it? He’d proven himself, hadn’t he?

            He wanted to believe it all stemmed from some sort of possessive jealousy, as womanly as it was to think so. Because he could admit, or at least show, that he was jealous so why couldn’t Nick?

            Ellis hadn’t thought about it, but he’d come a long way. To come from never uttering a word about homosexuality because it was a strict taboo—something sinful and disgusting—to having a relationship with another man was huge for the redneck.

            But you fall for who you fall for, everybody knew that, right?

            And it had never upset him that he’d grown attracted to Nick. His friends and family’s opinions had upset him, yeah. And stupidly, he had tried to hide his feelings for the gambler from everyone else.

            Nick had never attempted to hide them until he noticed that the younger survivor was. Had it been because he wanted people to know or because he didn’t care either way?

            The ex-con hadn’t changed much in demeanor towards their relationship in the days and months since those first awkward few. He still seemed as if he didn’t care who saw or heard—probably turned him on more that way—and he still endearingly treated Ellis like an idiot whether they were out on the street or in private.

            And he still acted like Ellis was more of a burden than a lover.

            He should’ve accused Nick, too, but he really didn’t want to have the older man’s following venomous words biting at him for the next few days. Nor did he want him upset, especially when they were headed back into Savannah.

            “You wanna get rid of me or somethin’?” Ellis slowed his words into the whisper so they wouldn’t be fully engulfed by the drowning silence.

            “No,” Nick answered, almost immediately. “Jesus, Ellis. Don’t you think I would’ve left by now?”

            He did realize that, but he couldn’t help thinking and hurting otherwise.

            “…Just go to sleep.”

            Ellis opened his mouth to ask a question he didn’t have formed. He closed his mouth and then tried again. “How long we gonna stay in Savannah?”

            “A couple days.”

            “Where we goin’ after that?”

            “Does it matter?” the conman’s voice was gritting again.

            “Guess not,” was the reply as Ellis moved closer.

 

            Ellis woke to where he had probably wiggled in his sleep: atop Nick’s chest. One of the gambler’s hands was against his back, just barely, and the other circled the hick’s bicep which was draped across the curved lines of ribs beneath it.

            The clock read 10:06 AM. Nick never usually let him sleep in that late, well, not in the hotel room anyway.

            But he even though he wasn’t tired and his stomach wasn’t churning and his head had only the slightest of aches he found himself wanting to stay still. Because he had no clue what lay beyond the hotel.

            Unfortunately the slightest movement of his head, his cheek or hair, something, caused Nick to stir underneath him. His touch turned heavy, sleep-ridden, borderline affectionate in its searching.

            Ellis wondered if the gambler knew it was him and not some woman.

            “You awake?” Nick asked, voice a rested murmur.

            “Yeah,” the southern accent attested. “How come ya let us sleep in?”

            “Because you need to sleep to get better… Not to mention I didn’t fall asleep until three or so.”

            “How come?”

            “Search me,” Nick replied. “Probably because I had some kid rolling on top of me every ten minutes.”

            Ellis sat up and let the older man free from the bed so he could acquire his clothes and disappear into the bathroom. Rubbing his eyes, the mechanic gave a low, deep suck of breath, makeshift of a yawn, through his nose and released it back out with a wide stretch and arch of his arms above his head.

            Nick came back out, perfect as always, hair slicked, face washed—it needed a shave, but the gambler probably knew the positives effect of the stubble by now—and clothes neat.

            He crossed over to sit next to Ellis and took the boy’s jaw without warning, turning his head to the side so that he could press his wrist against the cooled forehead. He moved to feel the temple, where the pulse picked up just slightly, before withdrawing.

            “Told you stopping would help.”

            “Never said it wouldn’t,” Ellis said, smiling. “Said I could-a made it.”

            “Yeah, sure, and then you would’ve collapsed on your front porch and your mom would’ve let your grandpa loose on me. Sounds fun.”

            “Y’already know grandpa’s gonna let loose on ya without her say anyway.”

            “Yeah, why am I going back there again?”

            “I dunno,” the hick admitted. “Why are ya?”

            “Thought you wanted to.” Nick hunched his back forward so he could let the weight of his elbows rest on his thighs.

            “I do.”

            “Then what’s the problem?”

            “Ain’t no problem on my account. You don’t like Savannah.”

            “Ellis,” the older man said, rubbing his chin. “I think I can handle a few days. Jesus, what’s wrong with you? You’ve got something to say just say it.”

            There was a lot he could’ve said but he wasn’t sure it would make any difference. Nick was still going to twist his rash words about women into whatever he wanted. He was still going to be a hypocrite about the entire situation.

            And although it was unfair and probably cruel to other eyes, Ellis figured it was best he drop it. Because there was always the chance that judging and watching the boy was some sort of barrier he’d constructed around their relationship.

            It didn’t make a lot of sense, since Ellis had no intention of going anywhere. It didn’t make a lot of sense, since Nick was always complaining about how annoying he was. It didn’t make a lot of sense, since they both claimed they still looked at women.

            But if Nick wanted to keep him within that fencing that was fine. As long as he was kept.

            “It’s nothin’,” he said finally. “I juss appreciate it, thass all.”

            Ellis waited while Nick searched his face. The conman sat up and lifted an eyebrow, and then his face settled back down in to an almost non-existent remorse before he rubbed his jaw again, and that movement seemed to swipe it all away, back into his unreadable façade.

            “Sure,” Nick said. “It’s not that big of a deal.” He started to stand.

            The younger man caught him by the forearm and lifted his face.

            “What? I’m not kissing you,” the ex-con laughed. “Your mouth tastes like crap when you wake up.”

            “Yeah? Well… I kissed ya when yer mouth tasted like ass on account-a them cigarettes.” Ellis gave a tug.

            “Ellis, I really don’t want to have to kick the shit out of a sick guy, okay?”

            “Okay.” The redneck loosened his hold but just as Nick readjusted gave another tug that succeeded in crushing the larger man atop him. He craned his neck upwards.

            “Fine, fine! I’ll kiss you, just don’t breathe on me again.”

           

            Ellis pulled up to his house first, as Nick had let him take over the drive once they were on a familiar highway back to Savannah. He pulled his truck into the empty driveway while his lover parked his Jag on the street in front of the house, under their large tree out in front, taking full advantage of the shade.

            His mother’s house wasn’t anything special—he’d constantly reminded Nick of that before bringing the gambler home. He was sure his lover, even though he drifted a lot, had lived in nothing but nice, big houses as a child and now comfortable apartments and hotel rooms. His house was simple, four bedrooms, an attic, and a basement. Throughout his childhood they’d had to suffer with one bathroom because their second’s shower had repeatedly broken over the years. When they’d finally fixed it the bathroom became his and his grandfather’s while his mother finally adopted her own.

            Nick, upon seeing the house, had lifted an eyebrow at the hick and then turned back to regard the building that he, by no means, considered ‘nothing special.’ Nick had liked the porch because it was large and twisted along the house, like a big welcoming gate. Whenever the older man had had to leave the house to stop himself from coloring Ellis’ mother’s face the porch was his ‘sanctuary.’

            As good a sanctuary a place with no walls could be, anyway.

            “Anybody home?” Nick asked, voice carrying across the lawn to the hick who had just rounded his truck with his bags in tow.

            “Don’t look like it.”

            “She say she was going out on the phone?” His lover joined him, own bags weighing down his shoulders.

            “No,” Ellis said, leading his partner to the front door. “I bet she’s out gettin’ food.” He lifted his keychain to the door, sliding home a particularly shiny, gold key to unlock it. As Nick entered he closed the door behind them so that he could place their bags to the side.

            “Your grandpa’s not even home?”

            “I dunno. Hello? Grandpa?” Ellis craned his head around the wall so he could peer into the front room.

            Not a moment after the mechanic’s voice slowly tapered off in its bouncing off the walls the sound of thumping, small feet and long clicking nails erupted, replacing the silence with its own crescendo of volume.

            Straight ahead, from the tan doorway that led deeper back, towards the kitchen and living room, sped the family’s dog, Bull.

            Ellis’ mother had apparently rescued Bull during the apocalypse and had managed to escape with him. It had been quite a story for the two true survivors—that a dog had been accepted through in the early stages, while they had been abandoned by several people on their journey because they had been left behind and therefore had been considered unclean and contaminated.

            At that point Bull had been a puppy, a Great Dane puppy. Now he was fully grown and while he was exceptionally well trained, that hyperactive and playful mind bound within a one hundred and forty pound body saw two people he had grown fond of and hadn’t seen in a while.

            As soon as the dog leapt onto him Ellis lost his balance and stumbled backwards, into Nick who only managed to stay on his feet because the door remained firm against his back.

            “Down, Bull!” Ellis yelled through smiling lips. When the dog finally backed off he pushed himself away from his lover and immediately reached both hands down to scratch behind the canine’s upright, mostly white, black-peppered ears.

            “I don’t think he’s big enough,” Nick grumbled, reaching down to grab his bags. He moved around the two, dodging the sniffing, interested nose of the dog to begin walking up the wooden, curved stairs to the bedrooms on the second floor. “Maybe Annalynne should get another.”

            Ellis retrieved his own bags and followed him up, his footsteps echoed by the animal behind him. “She’s gotta have someone-ta watch out fer her, juss in case. Grandpa’s too old.”

            “He’s pretty heavily armed for an old guy,” Nick retorted, shaking his head. He stopped and shouldered his lover’s slightly-ajar bedroom door open the rest of the way and placed his bags on the floor, near the closet. He then knelt down to search within one.

            The redneck tossed his bags near his bed, where they skidded to a stop against the wall beyond, just below his window. “Wekin unpack later, Nick. Whatchya wanna do now?”

            “I _wanna_ shower.” The gambler stood, change of clothes—his last clean pair—within his hands. He slipped his feet out of his shoes and headed for the door. “And you’re going to after I’m done.”

            “Why we gotta? We ain’t dirty.”

            “Ellis, you slept on me last night and you were puking up the day before. I’m showering and then you are. You can ease up on being disgusting for ten minutes.” He disappeared from the doorway before the younger man could reply.

            The hick plopped down on his bed, frowning, feeling himself bounce, just slightly before the bed finally settled. As Bull climbed up on the bed near his feet, managing to find space enough for his large body to lie down, Ellis glanced at his wall where his Midnight Riders and Jimmy Gibbs Jr. posters hung. There were a few more strewn about the room, but he’d moved these two above his bed after coming back from encampment. It only seemed right.

            He closed his eyes, just for a second, which turned into fifteen minutes disturbed by the brisk shake of his leg. He looked down blearily at where Nick had taken hold of his knee and was shaking it. His hair was wet and down again.

            Ellis didn’t wait for his lover to tell him, he got up and rushed to the bathroom.

 

            When he reemerged, which was about five minutes later because as much as he liked the warm water he didn’t understand why any man would need more than a couple minutes to wash himself, Nick was sitting on his bed, close to the wall, book opened. He looked cramped, as he had to bend his legs at the knee because Bull had refused to move from his spot.

            His hair was still wet, but slicked back already. He had chosen a pair of his more comfortable pants and the shirt he had yet to don was lying over the chair to Ellis’ desk across the room.

            Ellis placed his hand on the knot of his towel and, after hustling Bull out of the room, shut the door behind him. He crossed over to his dresser and opened one of the drawers so that he could peer inside.

            “Where do you think your grandpa is?” Nick set his book down.

            “Maybe he gotta girlfriend,” the mechanic grinned.

            “What did I tell you about being disgusting?”

            “Maybe he moved out,” Ellis tried instead.

            “Don’t get my hopes up.” The ex-con shuffled to swing his legs over the side of the bed so he could stand.

            “Gonna have to deal with him soon anyway.” The younger survivor tossed a pair of boxers over his shoulder and onto the foot of the bed before crossing to the closet. He opened it to find a few t-shirts and a pair of jeans hanging.

            “That’s not why I’m asking. I was just curious how much time we have.” Nick stepped up behind him and then his hands were on his lover’s bare sides. And then they slid down and forward, pulling at the twist of the towel until the wet fabric plopped against the floor.

 

            The couple was already redressing by the time the sound of the garage door lifting echoed throughout the house. Ellis finished first, pulled his cap onto his head and practically ripped his bedroom door off the hinges as he exited the room.

            And then he tripped over Bull who had been laying, firm and bored, outside the door.

            Nick stepped over him. “That was just so perfect I don’t think there’s anything I could say to make you feel any dumber.” He held out his hand.

            Ellis took it, gripping harder than he needed to as his lover helped him stand.

            “Ellis!” his mother called. A door slammed shut behind her voice.

            Her son, and dog, hurried down the stairs in unison, both choosing to bound over the last two steps. Ellis managed to out-step the animal as he turned around the doorway to the back of the house, to where his mother was waiting, grocery bags by her feet and arms open which he happily ran into.

            The first time Nick had met Ellis’ mother had been the first time the redneck had seen her since before the infection. It had been far too long, and before that he’d gone on far too long not knowing whether she was alive or dead. It had been five months of living in that camp before the heartless workers decided it might be ‘nice’ to post a list of survivors from the other camps.

            Rochelle had found the name of her father and sister, telling them later that she had two younger brothers as well as her mother and grandmother who hadn’t made one of the lists. Coach had found his brother’s name along with all his nieces and nephews but he’d told them about his sister and her children whose names were absent. Nick hadn’t looked.

            And when Ellis had looked and found the name of not only his mother and grandfather, but Keith, and Dave, and Paul and other people he hadn’t even told them about he couldn’t help but feel guilty because he truly hadn’t lost anybody like his other teammates had.

            But when he saw his mother again, all that guilt faded and he hadn’t let go of her for an hour. It was the only time Nick kept quiet.

            Ellis was an only child, so yeah, he could see how that would be misunderstood as a mama’s boy. Because sure he’d painted the entire house blue when he was fourteen just because she’d asked with a smile. And yeah, there was the time he wasted his entire paycheck on gifts for her birthday and mother’s day (because they sometimes fell on the same day and if not were only ever a week apart). Okay, and sure, the one time she’d gone on a date with some guy that didn’t deserve her he’d let the air out of his tires. But that was all just because he cared.

            And it wasn’t wrong to hug his mother every time he saw her, especially when seeing her took as long as a year. It wasn’t wrong to hug her whenever she asked for one or when he woke up or anything. So really, he didn’t understand why Nick had always rolled his eyes and shook his head.

            Especially now that Nick was practically a part of the family as far as Ellis was concerned (as much as the gambler hated the idea.)

            Ellis’ mother’s hands dropped and patted at her son’s stomach. “Are you losing weight?”

            “No, mom,” the redneck responded, pushing her hands away. “I was sick an’ couldn’t eat.”

            “Yeah, when he did it ended up all over the side of the highway,” Nick supplied from where he stood, a little further down the hall.

            His mother’s plump wrist automatically flew to his forehead. “And he’s still a little warm. You let him drive like this?”

            “Mom,” Ellis tried.

            “You caught me, Annalynne; I am in fact trying to kill your son.” The conman walked over, hands in his pockets. “Where’s the old man?”

            “Nick!” Ellis chided from where he was hefting two grocery bags up.

            “I’m sure he’s out shooting something somewhere,” the said ‘old man’s’ daughter supplied. She held out her arms. “How’ve you been, Nicolas?”

            The ex-con held his face still until his head was over her shoulder where he shot a dirty look at Ellis, daring the hick to say something and anything. His lover wisely stayed quiet and placed the grocery bags on the jutting counter of his mother’s kitchen.

            “Just fine, how’ve you been? Sorry we were traveling for so long.” Nick followed the older woman out into the garage where he helped her pull a few more paper bags full of food before she shut the trunk door.

            “That’s alright; you both wanted to go.”

            “No.” The mechanic watched as his partner returned and set the bags down. “I mean _I’m_ sorry we were traveling for so long. How did you live with him for all those years?”

            “Hey, c’mon!” Ellis crossed his arms.

            “Trust me, it’s harder living with his grandfather.” She led the way back into the kitchen and when the last bag was set down rounded the counter so she could look at the boys who had sat down at the table to resume the conversation. “We’re having chicken; don’t like it go get something else.”

            “Okay,” they both said.

 

            “Vegas was the coolest part,” Ellis said after swallowing down a bite of his chicken. “I mean, everythin’ else was awesome. I got Nick-ta ride horses an’ we went-ta Six Flags an’ we got the Harley an’ Jag.”

            “Must’ve cost you a fortune,” their cooker said, turning her eyes to Nick.

            “Nah,” the hick answered instead. “We won the Harley. Well, an’ the Jag…”

            “We just decided to buy it,” Nick said, taking a fork full of food into his mouth while Ellis stared.

            Because them, together, as a ‘we’ had never decided anything. Nor had Nick ever including him in any finances.

            “And compared to what we won in Vegas it didn’t end up mattering anyway,” his lover continued after chewing and swallowing.

            “You didn’t tell me that,” Ellis said, before his mother’s open mouth could release her words. “How much didjya win?”

            “A lot.”

            “Didn’t tell me,” he repeated in turn.

            “Because you were very drunk.” Nick looked up and grinned at him. “So I’m sure you didn’t remember. It wasn’t that night you got really drunk, though. How ‘bout that night though, huh? I had to carry him back to the hotel room where we--…”

            Ellis kicked him hard with the side of his foot, probably doing more damage to his own foot as he connected right away with the older man’s shin. But it was enough to force the gambler into silence that the hick ensured with a glare.

            “…But it was awesome,” Ellis said, picking up the conversation with the same enthusiasm he’d possessed when he’d started it. “Nick won all this money—an’ I guess more than I thought. An’ he actually went on rides even though he hates rides. An’ we went-ta Salt Lake City and it was awesome! There was this big church place or whatever. An’ then we went-ta the Lake an’ then this car museum an’ that was all even afore Vegas. Oh! An’ I forgot ‘bout Denver, we gotta stay at this real cool hotel!”

            “So,” his mother said, slowly, “you went across the country and just found out how cool you think Nick is?”

            Her son’s face burned. “Mom!”

            And Nick grinned at him from across the table, a rare occasion of a toothed display.

            “Well, I’m sorry, honey, I just think you already knew that before leaving.” She smiled at him, bounced a little with a giggle that was joined by Nick’s own, suppressed and deep laughter reverberating from his chest.

            And then the front door opened noisily and closed much the same. Bull lifted his head but didn’t move from his spot beside his owner’s feet. Probably because there was only one person it could be.

            Ellis’ grandfather, a subtly, white-bearded man in his very early seventies, walked into the kitchen. He was dressed in browns and greens, his gun poised over his shoulder. And his eyes, just like Ellis’ mother’s eyes, settled directly onto Nick. And then they darted away.

            Nick’s smile had faded with the rest of his jovial expression the moment the sound of the door opening had hit the kitchen. He didn’t bother meeting the old man’s eyes. He just stared at his chicken darkly, as if the chicken were in possession of that shotgun and deep-run hatred instead of the hunter.

            “Dad,” Annalynne said, shooing the settled silence aside, “the food’s still warm if you’d like to get a plate and join us.”

            “I’ll juss eat in the basement,” he said too quickly.

            “Then I’ll get you a plate.” And she stood and crossed back to the stove where she had left the food to make a new plate.

            The three men were left in silence.

            And Ellis was trying his hardest to make eye contact with his grandfather. Finally, after a few dragged seconds he did. When he smiled his grandfather spoke, out of obligation.

            “Didjya have fun?”

            “Yeah, it was awesome! I took a lot of pictures.” The hick had brought his camera down from his bag to show his mother and he reached to his left to where he had set it on the table.

            “Thass good,” his grandfather muttered, his plate of food now in his hand. “I’m sure yer mother wants-ta see.” And then he turned, opened the hallway door that led to his basement, and disappeared behind the shutting door.

            Annalynne settled back down with a sigh, drawing her son’s unblinking eyes to her own. She didn’t speak, because every excuse had already been used up in those early months of his and Nick’s relationship.

            Ellis looked back down to his food and then once up at his lover.

            And Nick was already looking back, jaw set and face contemplative.

            Ellis shrugged his shoulders and forced a small smile. But when he looked back down to his food it fell flat. He shoveled more into his mouth but the formerly-good meal tasted bland and unnatural against his tongue.

            “…Did you get a hold of Keith or Dave?” his mother asked. Maybe she was seeing how far the damage had spread. But it hadn’t changed since they’d left.

            And no, he hadn’t tried to get in contact with either of them in a few months. They never answered anyway. So he shook his head.

            And when he looked back up, Nick’s eyes hadn’t changed.

 

            Later, when the sun had begun to set and the air was less stifling, Ellis shuffled down the basement stairs. The task at hand was to retrieve some beer from the basement refrigerator for himself and Nick, who had retired to the porch out in front of the house.

            He rounded the rail of the staircase and then walked a little further, glancing around the bend to where his grandfather sat in his recliner, the television on some fishing show in front of him.

            Ellis cleared his throat to jar the old man from his show. He saw one of the slippered-feet jolt a little, but the wrinkled face never turned back to look at him.

            “Didjya kill anythin’?” the younger hick asked.

            His grandfather turned to look at him then. “Yeah, but it was Murray’s turn-ta take it home.”

            “Oh.” He crossed to the fridge and opened it, pulling out two bottles from the many beers inside. “Are you going fishing soon?” He nodded towards the television once he was standing upright.

            “Might go-ta the river sometime soon.”

            “Well, lemme know, Ikin go wichya.”

            The old man settled back in his seat, raised his remote, and turned up the volume. But it wasn’t loud enough to cover his voice.

            “Ya never were too good with fishin’ poles, maybe-ya should stick with the ones yer used-ta.”

            And Ellis pretended he hadn’t heard, because he wished he hadn’t.

 

            Nick was sitting on the swing-bench that adorned a small part of their porch. He was staring out at the Jag or the street, or maybe even the rapid increase of violet in the sky through the tree. His head turned easily enough, however, when Ellis pressed the cold, moisture-laden bottle against the column of his throat.

            He sat back, carefully onto the bench, though it still rocked back and forth slightly.

            They opened their beers in unison.

            “Wasn’t so bad,” Nick said after a moment, referring to their dinner. “We’ve had it much worse with him.”

            Ellis nodded, mouth tight.

            “I didn’t know you called your idiot friends.”

            “Tried-ta. But that was a while ago. They don’t pick up no more. I guess they’re juss busy.” Both men knew it was a lie.

            Ellis turned his head, watching a group of kids running around the large front yard of his neighbor’s house. Only two of the youngsters belonged to the owner, a young boy of twelve, or thirteen now, and his younger sister of nine. He’d watched them a few times back before the infection.

            He hadn’t spoken to the kids or their parents in a year now. Or at least he’d like to say it was a year. It was probably closer to a year in a half, or however long it had been since the now-teenaged boy had called him a fag, courtesy of his father’s teaching.

            And it was all just a little marvelous—how people he’d admired and people who had admired him could turn their backs like any memories or words or actions shared between them had never happened, had never mattered. Like their bonds of fondness or friendship or blood didn’t matter just because he loved someone who was not only male but completely different from himself both culturally and emotionally.

            And he knew that the male part was the only true problem. If it had been a northern woman it would have drawn a few grumbles followed by rapid acceptation.

            “Things have changed here a lot for you.” Nick swallowed and his adam’s apple bobbed.

            “No,” Ellis said, “nothin’s changed here. Ain’t that weird? With the infection an’ all? I mean there’s damage an’ all but more people survived than I thought. An’ we juss went back-ta the way it was afore.”

            “I said for you,” his lover said, before the mechanic’s musing went into a full-on rant.

            Ellis couldn’t tell what his voice was hiding because it was so level, because it was the one Nick used when he wanted to win a lot of money.

            “They treat you like you’re not there,” Nick almost hissed when it became apparent Ellis wasn’t going to respond to him.

            “Nah, they treat you like you ain’t there,” Ellis corrected. “They treat me like they dunno me anymore.” His friends whom he’d had since he was five. His grandfather who’d been there since his birth and who’d taken over his father’s duty when he’d left the family.

            Well, he still had his mom and the dog. And Nick. Nick, who he’d gotten, as if in a trade, for the affection of three perfectly good people, people he’d loved.

            People who didn’t seem to care if they ever talked to him again.

            “You know how dogs get meaner as they get older?” Ellis asked.

            “Yeah.” Nick’s hand settled on the back of his neck, warm and nice.

            “Maybe people do too.”

            “Sorry, Overalls.”

            Ellis didn’t want him to apologize. Because he didn’t blame Nick because none of it was the conman’s fault. It wasn’t either of their faults. It was just so many stretching, wrapping, knotted misunderstandings that he couldn’t figure out where to start to unravel things.

            “Thass okay. Like I said, nothin’ else really changed. Lookit everythin’.” He stretched his hand outward and then dropped it. “…Wanna see somewhere cool. I didn’t get-ta show ya afore we left.”

            “Anything to get further away from your asshat grandfather.”

 

            It had taken more than an hour but less than two for Ellis to drive to the wide-open, prairie-like and abandoned area he’d wanted to show Nick. It was on the edge of a small forest preserve. The road they’d traveled on for ten minutes to get to it was dirt and rarely ever used, especially at that time of night. And the double, parallel tracks leading into the taller grass were only ever traced by his truck’s wheels.

            And the two survivors sat—shoulder to shoulder—in the now-open bed of the truck.

            Above them the white and red and blue and flickering stars stretched and streaked and dotted across the black vastness. And nothing, not the city lights or even headlights, dimmed the view.

            “Used-ta come here an’ drink with Keith an’ Dave.”

            “We didn’t bring booze,” Nick said, lamenting.

            “Nah, it was stupid anyway on accounta I’d hafta sleep in my car ‘cause sometimes I drank too much-ta drive.”

            “Yeah? How often was that?”

            “I didn’t do it too much,” Ellis said. “Keith an’ Dave would drive anyway. That’s how Keith crashed his second truck. We didn’t tell anybody, though, ‘cause it wasn’t too bad off so we juss fixed it.”

            Nick moved backwards, easing himself down to rest his weight on his elbows. He was looking forward into the line of the trees.

            “’Fraid somethin’s gonna come out?” Ellis asked.

            “No. We’re out in the open; we’d see whatever it was coming. If we go in the woods, then I’ll start worrying.”

            The redneck lay down beside him and placed his arms behind his head. And then he turned on his side, trying to read the lines of his lover’s face in the dark. But he could just make out the lightness of his skin and the white of his eyes, everything else was a shade of night.

            And then, very simply, he leaned over and pressed his mouth to the older man’s.

            Because he knew that it would very simply be accepted, reciprocated, and taken further without having to utter a word.

            Nick’s arm came up, his fingers dug into the back of Ellis’ arm, into where the tattoo darkened his skin further in the night. The hick let it bend in understand so he could move closer, so he could press closer and harder, both body and lips.

            But that was as hard as their pressing and pulling got. Everything else was soft, odd, rare touches and kisses and breaths.

            When Ellis hunched upwards to allow the man below him to move the ringed fingers on him moved to his sides, to where they could push up his shirt. And he lifted his arms and let it be lifted, slowly, teasingly, until he controlled its speed with his arms so that he could remove it entirely.

            Nick was sitting up beside him, halfway through the buttons of his own shirt. And Ellis moved up behind him, legs on either side of his thighs, an open position that his arms followed when they wrapped around the thicker torso to help divest it of the all-too-covering shirt.

            After he had peeled it away and tossed it aside so that it could settle atop his own he leaned his chin forward, over the slope of the gambler’s shoulder. He was rewarded with the turn of Nick’s face which he took advantage of with his mouth—first the cheek, then the corner of his lips until, with a little craning and stretching, he was able to line up the length of their lips into another slow kiss.

            Nick began to turn fully, moving from the kiss for a few seconds before renewing it and then repeating the non-touch and touch as he repositioned. Ellis finally moved backwards so that the northerner could turn. And he bent his legs so that they wouldn’t block the other man’s.

            Heavy, card-shuffling hands landed on his knees and spread them, effectively spreading the boy’s thighs apart as well. To keep his balance Ellis let his torso lean backwards, let his arms hold his pounds, and let his eyes take in the sight between his legs.

            And then Nick leaned forward and pressed their faces together again and this time, with a sweeping, familiar, and blood-rushing sweep of his tongue, pressed the kiss deeper and intimate. His hands smoothed over his lover’s shoulders and downward, following the curve of each slender rib-bone to where they ended and the hick’s flank began. They stopped just under the line of Ellis’ belly buttons, one left and the other right, the thumbs working over the corresponding and gentle hipbones underneath.

            When the kiss and soft tongue and taste of his lover left him, Ellis stared hard, over the conman’s shoulder up to the blinking lights above.

            Which didn’t last very long because when Nick’s mouth drifted downwards, to the stretching skin that connected his jaw and neck, to the sensitive, pulsing areas of said neck he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifted half-mast to shut and back again.

            And he supposed it was because he was used to teeth and hard, pressed mouths and quick, excited motions. He couldn’t remember when they had ever taken their time, slow and gentle. He liked it, though he’d never tell anyone because he definitely didn’t want to be called a fag again.

            The older man’s mouth was on his nipple then and he arched up into the slight suck, into the following brush of lips, and then against the comforting and firm thumb that followed after the kiss had moved across. Every motion, both his and Nick’s, repeated.

            And then as Nick moved lower, still light and barely there, against his stomach and sides and navel, he jerked upwards, a smile on his lips and laugh caught in his throat. His lover managed to avoid having his nose broken. And he had a smile on his face as he looked upwards.

            He, wisely, planted his hands on his lover to hold him down and lowered back down. His lips circled around the dip in Ellis’ stomach, around the sensitive area that had never been given any attention besides from a wash cloth. Nick’s front teeth nipped just barely at the thin, sensitive skin at the top of Ellis’ navel before, apologetically and soothingly, his expert tongue darted and danced around the circle.

            And when it dipped in Ellis lifted into it, eyes downwards to where his lover’s where shut, to where his forehead was crinkled in concentration, to where he worked as if he’d been thinking about it for months.

            When Nick finally freed him and he lay back against the bed of his truck, his cock was straining hard against his jeans and his chest was lifting up and down, lust-driven with a new sense of slow, unfamiliar excitement in accompaniment.

            The ex-con’s fingers trailed down to the fly and button of his jeans and after he’d worked at them and freed the straining flesh underneath he backed away and circled around to the front of the truck. And while he waited Ellis managed to get both his boots and pants off and placed beneath himself, along with the two discarded shirts to form makeshift padding.

            When Nick returned, their bottle of lube in one hand and the crotch of his pants in the other, Ellis had already pulled his legs to his chest.

            Because he knew Nick liked it.

            And he was more than right and not disappointed. Slick fingers found his entrance almost immediately and he was unsure and uncaring how they managed to become so wet so fast. But they were probing, one, two, three, and then stretching and deep and that same slow excited, like the loud beating of his chest.

            When Nick’s fingers disappeared and the sound of a zipper lowered and fabric dropping reached his ears the redneck let his head lay back, against the curled ball of the dress shirt behind his head. And almost immediately his stretched entrance was stretched further by his lover’s hot cock and Ellis could only let out a soft sigh. And with that soft sigh he lowered his legs to either side of his body, because he wanted the furred chest above him closer.

            He wrapped his arms around his lover’s broad shoulders, pressed his fingers into wherever he could, and lifted his face back up.

            The rocking that began between them was neither frantic nor slow. It was paced and passionate and good. Nick’s hips alternated between reaching and thrusting to rolling and searching. And Ellis moved with every turn and twist and let his deep, hoarse breath which only carried soft grunts and Nick’s name outward speak for him.

            And when the gambler leaned just far enough forward with the soft thrusts that their lips could touch, they did. They reunited and parted and then matched up again, exactly when the blunt head of his lover’s erection reached deep, the deepest it had ever gone, and he felt full and solid and warm and claimed and then marked and then shaking and then jolting and sputtering and spurting.

            When his panting slowed and the shuddering ripples of pleasure released his body from their paralyzing grip Ellis moved his legs, bending them at the knee so that he could keep Nick between them. Because while the older man had already pulled out he didn’t want him to leave.

            But Nick didn’t—he let his larger body lay down atop his lover, even with the uncomfortable hard bed of the truck beneath him. After a few moments he turned his head, kissed Ellis’ neck, and peeled off to the side.

            And his hand reached down to cup the hick’s wrist.

            Ellis turned on his side and moved against him, uncaring for the coldness of the truck beneath them. He moved his free hand up between them because he wasn’t sure what else to do with it. And Nick watched him above and through the slightly-curled fingers.

            “What?” Ellis asked.

            Nick shrugged. “Where do you want me to look?”

            “At me’s fine.”

            “…You okay with leaving Savannah? You don’t want to stay longer and… face this shit?”

            “Nobody-ta face,” Ellis reminded him.

            “Yeah,” Nick agreed. “Sorry.” He continued hurriedly, seeing the southerner’s mouth open. “I’m not sure what you could say anyway. Not sure what they’d expect. You to call it a phase or something?”

            “Three years ain’t a phase,” the younger man whispered.

            “I know,” was the quiet reply. “It couldn’t be that easy anyway.”

            “Probably is,” Ellis said. “I ain’t one-ta take the easy way out, though.”

            “No, you wouldn’t.”

 

            When they pulled up back into the driveway of their Savannah dwelling the house was quiet and dark. They managed to make it inside, voices mute and movements hushed so that they wouldn’t disturb Bull who would further disturb the house with his raucous barking and the frantic scratch of his claws against the door.

            They entered Ellis’ room, touching arms or fingers or sides in some way in the process. And Nick didn’t make them shower.

            Ellis tripped over Nick’s bags, that had been moved sometime during the evening, maybe by his mother, closer to the doorway. His lover caught him, steadying the stumble into a stride towards the bed.

            “Gotta move your bags,” Ellis murmured sleepily.

            “I will in the morning,” Nick replied.

            They fell into the bed, uncaring for showers or cleanliness beyond removing their dirtied clothes. Ellis waited for his older lover to get comfortable and then settled down, head on the left side of his lover’s haired-chest, and then the rest of their bodies molded together.

            And Nick put his arms around him and kept them there until the hick nodded off.

 

            And when he awoke in the morning and they were gone he had to wonder how they had managed to release him without any disturbance.

            And when he stood and the bags had been moved, completely into absence from the room, and the cell phone that he’d left on Ellis’ desk was gone and his book was no longer on the floor beside the bed and his soap and shampoo and toothbrush were no longer in the bathroom, and their Jag was no longer relaxing under the shade of the tree out in front, he wanted to pretend he wasn’t surprised.

            Because maybe then the hurt wouldn’t tear and rip and pulse so deep.


	10. God, Nick and Ellis Love...

            Ellis shuffled down the basement stairs of his mother’s house one afternoon, socked feet rubbing against the brown carpeting because he didn’t bother to lift his feet higher than he had to. He had his grandfather’s lunch in one hand; the other was on the railing. His mother’s dog, Bull, accompanied him, taking up the space between his legs and the wall.

            He hated the days he had off because there was nothing to do but stay home with his grandfather, silent and non-existent, a hermit tucked away in the safety of his basement. Bull could only be taken on so many walks or play so many games of fetch. And all the food in the house tasted bland and heavy so he didn’t bother.

            And he hated these kinds of days because he’d woken up alone, as he had every day for a little over two weeks now, and he had nothing else to do but think about it.

            He rounded the banister and ventured around the curve of the house, deeper into the basement. “Grandpa? Gotchyer lunch.”

            The older man’s face popped out from around his leather recliner. “I coulda gone up an’ made my own.”

            “Okay,” Ellis replied. He held the plate out, presenting the ham sandwich and fruit slices.

            His grandfather took it with both of his gnarled, experienced hands. Ellis turned away from him, walking towards the fridge where he retrieved a beer for himself on his way back up. Bull followed along, thick tongue lolling and feet trotting.

            The old man stepped around the banister after him. “Yer mother wants me-ta take ya to the river this weekend fer fishin’.”

            “Mom wants,” Ellis repeated.

            His grandfather put his hand out, onto the railing, and leaned his weight. He let out a breath and his face softened, forcedly. “She figures we needta talk. Things we needta work out.”

            Ellis stared for a moment and then shook his head, smiling, sardonic and sad. “Two weeks ago we shoulda talked. Months ago we shoulda talked.” He leaned closer. “When I first toldjya we shoulda talked.” He turned to continue up the stairs.

            “I’m tryin’ta talk now. Why you gotta make this hard?” His grandfather snarled the question and turned around the banister after him.

            “Makin’ it hard? Ya think Ikin make things harder than they already are?” Ellis snarled back, turning, shoulders squared.  “Y’all think things could get any harder fer me? Y’all already made it that hard. You, an’ Keith, an’ Dave…” He turned his head, hands up, making into motion the desperate urgency he felt within his chest.

            “Now wait--…” his grandfather began, but Ellis didn’t want to wait.

            “Can’t make anythin’ harder,” the younger man repeated. “Y’all think it wasn’t hard afore? Y’all think I neededjya-ta make it worse? Why? ‘Cause…” And the only thing that popped into his head was Nick’s words. “’Cause y’all thought it was a phase? ‘Cause y’all thought I wasn’t serious? Y’all think I’m juss gonna get over it?”

            His grandfather swallowed, anger evident by the wrinkles and dim shine to his eyes, but he didn’t interrupt.

            “I ain’t,” Ellis said. “I ain’t gonna get over it juss ‘cause he left. ‘Specially ‘cause he left. ‘Cause I love ‘im.”

            This time the more conservative of the two did interrupt. “I don’t wanna hear that shit. I don’t wanna hear it! You ain’t in love with no man! Ya think y’are!”

            “Three years ain’t _thinkin’_!” The mechanic drew in a breath and waited a moment, shook his head and blinked his eyes rapidly because they stung. “You ain’t gonna listen-ta me. You never will. An’ yer never gonna understand ‘cause Nick’s a man. An’ you ain’t ever gonna understand ‘cause you never had someone you love leave ya like me an’ mom.”

            “Don’t you be comparin’ yerself withchyer mother. That ain’t the same.”

            Ellis had always wondered how people could smile when they were sad, when words used against them cut so deep, and now he couldn’t think of anything else to do but curve his lips. “See? You ain’t gonna understand.” He turned and made it up two steps before his grandfather pushed his shock and anger aside, making a path for his voice.

            “Where y’goin’? Don’tchya turn yer back on me.”

            “Why?” Ellis asked, no pause to his stride. “Y’all did it to me.” And he shut the basement door behind him.

           

            The remainder of the week his grandfather continued to take his meals in the basement—either making his own or having his daughter deliver his dinners—and Ellis didn’t take his meals. He would join his mother at the kitchen table and answer her questions, however, because he didn’t like the idea of her eating alone.

            And by the beginning of the next week he fell into a monotony he’d never known existed. He worked and ate and slept just to wake up and do it all over again.

            Sure, that’s what he had done before the infection but each of those things were interspaced with moments hanging out with his friends or playing in his band or hunting and fishing or drinking, things that he’d loved doing and had expected to do for the rest of his life. And yet none of it had returned.

            He drank alone, he played his bass alone, he fished alone, and none of it was the same. None of it was worth it.

            And working, which had been one of his favorite things to do. Seriously, how many people could say that they absolutely loved their job? That they woke up just to go do it again because it was a blast. Because working on cars with your friends could never get old. It should’ve never got old.

            A week after he’d gotten home, been left at home, a week of moping around the house he’d managed to get his old job back. Well, his mother had managed to get it; he’d agreed to it even though no one had spoken directly to him about it, instead the word had come through Annalynne.

            She’d come back from shopping one day, groceries and news for her son who hadn’t cared for either until she’d explained. She had apparently run into Dave, who, she told Ellis, she hadn’t seen in a couple months.

            And Ellis only thought of how many times she’d bandaged one of Dave’s legs or made him dinner when his parents weren’t home.

            She said he’d been happy to see her, had asked her how things were, how her father was, and finally how Ellis was. He said he’d driven by their house, as he often had to considering he and Keith didn’t live very far away—if they were still living in the same place at all—and had seen Ellis’ truck in the driveway.

            Ellis’ mother had said he was fine, back from his travels, and being useless around the house. Almost immediately Dave had asked whether his former friend needed a job.

            Dave’s father had been the one to run the garage where they worked. Dave only ever worked there on and off to help with finances and the more easier work of a mechanic—brakes and oil changes and the like. It was Keith, Ellis, and Dave’s father who had been more proficient at doing the heavier work.

            Their former employer hadn’t survived the apocalypse and so his garage had gone straight into the hands of his only son whom had told him through his mother to show up the next day at the garage to be put to work.

            And the only person who ever spoke to him was Dave.

            Keith never looked at him. Keith never spoke to him. And when Keith had to walk past him he did so as close as he could, as if daring Ellis to get in his way just so that he could knock him down.

            So Ellis stayed out of his way. Just like he stayed out of his grandfather’s way.

            And so Keith took all the best jobs, all the best pays, all the tips, and Ellis was reduced to rookie status.

            When the redneck pulled up to the garage one Wednesday he hadn’t expected anything different. He knew things weren’t going to change. He’d left his friends for a man, something so damning in their minds—both because of their own sexuality and betrayed friendships—that there was no going back. No matter what memories they shared together. No matter that Ellis hadn’t changed from the kid they knew.

            And things weren’t different inside the shop. Keith was already working on the engine of a Toyota and Dave was changing the brakes of a Hyundai, both muttering about something about foreign cars on the cusps of their breaths. So he waited out front while Dave, their oldest friend, finished his work and rounded back around.

            He didn’t hesitate to send Ellis to work the moment a Dodge Charger—apparently full of engine trouble and in the need of new brakes—rolled into the garage.

            Keith, who had just finished his own job, did.

            “Ikin take it,” the scarred man said, leaning over the front counter towards Dave.

            Ellis stopped in the doorway, lips pursed, waiting for his darker-haired friend’s answer.

            “Whole reason I had Ellis come in today was because you asked for half the day off ‘cause you have plans with Isabelle,” Dave responded, voice steady and even, lacking the thick accent of his younger pals. He’d moved into their neighborhood later in his life from Pennsylvania and only a few of his words had ever been ‘tainted’ by their unique perception of the English language.

            Ellis stepped into the garage so that he was out of sight but not sound.

            “Thass a big job,” Keith said, free to get to his point at Ellis’ exit. “An’ he’s livin’ at home with his big hot-shot boyfriend. He don’t need it. But I do gotta go, so you take it.”

            “Don’t know how,” Dave admitted readily.

            The younger mechanic didn’t speak for a moment, instead his boots shuffled around, different sounding to Dave’s sneakers. “I said it’sa big job. Y’allkin help each other an’ split the pay, then.”

            “Sure,” the word came with a laugh. “I don’t feel like listening to Isabelle scream at you all night, okay?”

            “I’m goin’.”

            And Ellis went to work on the car.

 

            Over an hour and a half later Ellis walked out to where their customer awaited him. He had grabbed a rag from one of the shelves behind him and was furiously wiping to get the oil and dirt and everything else that obscured the color of his flesh from his fingers before he reached the middle-aged man.

            He failed so he kept that dirtied rag over his hands. “She’s all fixed, sir.”

            “Already? I was sure you were coming over to tell me you’d need to keep her for another day,” he laughed, big and deep, matching his girth. Ellis guessed he had a few kids, based on the happy yet deep wrinkles around his mouth and eyes.

            “No, sir.”

            The man followed him back into the shop, to where Dave was working one of their log books. He lifted his dark head when they entered and promptly redirected the man’s attention to him by handing over the bill which the man paid quickly and happily, remarking on how much lower it was compared to the large chain-names. When he was finished he turned back to Ellis.

            “Thanks for working so fast,” he said and then peered at Ellis’ jumpsuit. “I’ll make sure to ask for ya next time, Ellis.”

            “I hope it ain’t soon,” the mechanic responded, politely. He gave a wave of his hand as the customer left.

            And when he turned around Dave was holding out the money earned from the work—the entirety of it. Ellis took it, numb and confused, and shoved it in his pocket.

            “I was thinking,” the older southerner said, “that we’d open on Saturdays like we used to. Keith didn’t much like the idea, considering we don’t get as much work these days, but I figured we should anyway. You interested? It’d probably just be us.”

            “Keith’ll be pissed,” Ellis said plainly. His voice was thin and bland and he wondered how he could still be so cold with his friends obvious attempt at civility.

            “Keith’s always pissed now.”

            “Yeah,” the hick replied. He dragged the thin cloth over his hands against his skin so that he’d have somewhere else to look. “Isabelle, huh?”

            “Yeah.” Dave waited until Ellis looked back up and then gave a roll of his dark eyes. “She moved in a couple months ago.”

            Into Ellis’ old spot in the house they used to share.

            “How’s that goin’?” He asked it out of obligation.

            “As good as a girlfriend can. Probably gonna have to get my own place soon, though.”

            Ellis was about to ask why he didn’t move back home, then he remembered. “I was awful sorry-ta hear ‘boutchyer dad.” He’d never had the chance to say so because he’d announced  his relationship with Nick the day before his former boss’ body was identified. And it had only taken less than a day for their ties to be severed so he had only found out through his mother.

            Less than a day… and only a few more to decay and fray so horribly that there was no putting them back together.

            And yet, right now, more than three years later, Dave was talking to him—no raised voice or judging stare to accompany the effort. Sure, it was behind Keith’s back and he was certain when the three were around each other again he’d be cast out just like usual.

            And he wondered if he should’ve accepted that, the slow steps back into normalcy, or if he should stop trying just as he had with his grandfather.

            Because he wasn’t so sure he wanted to pretend that nothing happened, no matter how much the ending had hurt. Because even though for the most part he hadn’t changed, the parts of him that had he wanted to keep and remember.

            “It’s okay,” Dave said before he could decide. “My mom and sister got out, that’s gotta be enough. They didn’t want to stay down here though. …Anyway, that’s more than a lot of people can say.”

            “Yeah,” Ellis agreed, not sure what else to add.

            “…So you’re staying here now?”

            “Guess so.”

            “Sorry.”

            The mechanic looked up, brows crinkled. “No, you ain’t.”

            “No… I mean about ignoring you and your calls,” Dave explained. He drew in a deep breath, maybe one he’d been keeping for far too long. “Shouldn’t have mattered…”

            Ellis wasn’t sure he wanted to respond. But he knew he should, and it felt a little good to know that he still possessed the decency denied to him. “No, it shouldn’t’ve.”

            His new boss lowered his head, nodded it a few times and allowed the lackluster lights to play off its dark shine.

            The hick waited a moment and then tapped his hand on the counter. “Yer mom an’ sister didn’t wanna stay?”

            “No,” Dave said, obviously appreciative of the change in subject. Obviously appreciative that Ellis wanted the conversation to continue at all. “Good thing, too. If they’d met Isabelle they probably would’ve killed her by now.”

            “That bad?”

            “If it crosses my mind to kill a woman, it’s bad.”

            “Juss ‘cause she’s livin’ wichya?”

            “You know, I may have never liked Nick but at least he didn’t turn you into a complete dick.”

            And then they laughed, loudly and together.

 

            When Ellis walked into his house, and after Bull pounced him—his body weight often sent the hick off balance and onto his back before the canine decided to stand directly atop his male owner in order to slather his thick tongue over his face, making him remarkably yet more sweetly similar to the special infected he had dreaded the most—he’d walked into the kitchen to see dinner waiting for him. His mother was sitting in her seat at the head of the table, a smile to her mouth and eyes.

            And when he sat down and she asked him about his day he finally had something to talk about again. And although it wasn’t a great story or a particularly good one, they were both happy to have his voice fill the silent void just like it always had.

            But as soon as Ellis finished, as soon as he looked down at his food, as soon as he lifted the fork, he realized he still wasn’t hungry. And he’d run out of words. But he put some food in his mouth anyway and waited for his mother to say something.

            “We should invite Dave over for dinner, then,” Annalynne said. “At least someone would eat my cooking, at least.”

            “Sorry,” her son replied, taking another bite. “…An’ I don’t think he’d come. He only talked-ta me ‘cause Keith wasn’t there.”

            “You don’t know that. Besides if you mention me I’m sure he’ll come.”

            Ellis nodded, not wanting to draw up a useless argument. He settled his fork against the table and looked down at Bull who stared back up at him from where he lay on the floor. His tongue lolled out slowly.

            When his mother looked away he dropped a piece of his roast beef onto the floor. Bull licked it up sloppily.

            “You’d think you’d be happier for something like this,” Annalynne said, ignoring their noisy pet.

            “I am.”

            “Really? You don’t look it.”

            Ellis raised his eyes to her and held the gaze. “’Cause I know he ain’t gonna talk-ta me tomorrow. He’ll talk-ta me Saturday when Keith’s not around. An’ I should be happy he’s tryin’. An’ I’m tryin’ too… But how long do I gotta wait, mom? Don’t seem fair.”

            His mother sighed and her eyes went sad. Her winkles were obvious and her skin dull, and she looked every bit of her fifty years all of a sudden. Ellis reached out to take her hand and gripped it hard.

            “I’m sorry, mom,” he found himself saying, found his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean-ta.” And he didn’t know what he hadn’t mean to do—ask the question, talk about his ever-distancing friends, or fall in love in the first place.

            She reached down for her napkin quickly, just as her eyes glassed over, and pressed it just in time to catch the first tear.

            “Don’t cry. I’m sorry,” Ellis repeated. “I’m juss—I’m sorry… I should’a kept it a secret. We all survived an’… an’ I juss ruined it. I didn’t mean-ta. I didn’t think it would be that big-a deal. I shouldn’t’ve toldjy’all.”

            “God, Ellis,” his mother said, wiping her eyes even as they rolled. “I didn’t care about that. I didn’t care about you and Nick because you were okay with it. Because you were happy and I’m your mother so that made me happy. The only thing I cared about was what everyone else cared about.”

            The mechanic lowered his eyes and smoothed his thumb over the skin of her hand.

            “And if I didn’t care that—that I wasn’t going to get a grandbaby I don’t see why any of them had the right to.” She gave a pitiful, sobbed laugh which Ellis met with a smile. And then he rose, stepped behind her, and wrapped his arms about her shoulders.

            “We coulda adopted,” he whispered from between smiling lips.

            And his mother laughed and raised her hands up to grasp his forearms. “Sure, Nick would’ve loved that.”

 

            Later, when all the lights of the house were off and he’d finally urged his mother from the couch and up to her room, and the sounds of the television in the basement finally stopped, Ellis sat in the kitchen. The light from above the stove was the only light he needed, was the only light he used.

            It barely reached him from where he sat at the kitchen table. Beneath the wood Bull lay, strong jaws on Ellis’ socked foot, waiting to accompany him to bed.

            Instead he sat, staring at the cordless phone standing upright in front of him, as he had been for twenty minutes now.

            He could only make out the slender curve of the phone and the slight shine of light off the side of it. Once he reached out to the phone, once he hit the call button, the corresponding nubs would light up, bright orange, and he’d see the numbers and letters and the dial tone would blare across the kitchen’s silence. And with each punch of a number a tone would obscure that ugly bottom note and bring him closer to ringing and answering and awkwardness.

            Ellis let his hand shake for one, two, three more seconds. And then he snatched the phone up, closed his eyes so there was no light whatsoever, so there were no numbers to intimidate him, and pressed his thumb across the pads.

            He lifted the phone to the side of his face and listened to the burring ring through the speaker.

            It rang three and a half times before there was a soft click. And then the speaker blared out loud music and voices and laughs. He heard a soft curse, the fumble of fingers against the microphone, and then the air on the other line seemed to clear, replaced with a soft blowing wind and gentle night.

            “Hello?”

            Ellis opened his eyes but not his mouth.

            “Hello?” There was the rubbing sound of skin again and then a long few seconds of silence, and then a deep, gravel breath. “…Ellis?”

            The hick realized he hadn’t thought of anything to say before picking up the phone. He only thought about that morning. He only thought about why he’d woken alone. He only thought about why he didn’t know why.

            Maybe because he never expected the gambler to pick up.

            “Ellis.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Why’re you calling me at midnight?”

            “I don’t know,” Ellis whispered. He drew the phone away from his ear and hit the end button, cutting off the failed call. And then he pressed the phone, face down, against the table so he couldn’t see those glowing lights anymore.

 

            Days later, weeks later, the song he’d heard through the phone was still stuck in Ellis’ head.

            He lay on his back in the front room of his house, next to the dormant fireplace. His hat lay at his side and his hands on his chest. He stared up at the ceiling as if there were something to stare at. Bull lay parallel to him, their heads close and nearly touching. The dog was also on his back, his long legs up in the air and tail skimming across the floor.

            And in the middle of Ellis’ chest, right above his sternum, lay the cordless phone.

            He hadn’t tried calling Nick’s cell phone again. Mainly because he had a million questions in need of answers. Mainly because he didn’t know if he really wanted the answers.

            Either way, through the phone he wasn’t likely to get them. He’d be lied to, hung up on, or ignored entirely. And he wasn’t sure how to combat any of that.

            But Nick had picked up the first time. Nick hadn’t changed his number. Nick wasn’t making it overly hard—granted, he had no clue where his ex-lover was: Vegas, New York, another country? They’d earned enough money for him to disappear entirely if he wanted to.

            So he could’ve easily gotten a new phone or number, but chose not to. And Ellis wasn’t sure how to take that. His mind, remembering vividly that day he’d woken up alone, figured the conman had just been lazy, hadn’t seen the point. Was there really one? Once you pack up your things, take a beloved car, and drive away without so much as leaving a note that pretty much signified the end, didn’t it?

            But his chest and stomach and everywhere else his emotions pooled, liquid hot, remembered the traveling, the gifts, the sex, and so he couldn’t help but hope.

            Tracking down Nick’s cell phone wasn’t really an option. He was a mechanic. He was good with cars and like machinery. When it came to computers he had met little kids who could type faster than him.

            Tracking down Nick himself wasn’t an option either. He didn’t have the supplies, means, or connections to do that. Plus, the ex-con wasn’t about to leave an easy trail. He was probably using cash instead of his credit cards again, anyway.

            Besides, Ellis knew Nick better than anyone else did, and if he didn’t know where he was the hopes of finding him were slim.

            And out of that slimness, and having walked out back to see his mother working in the garden when he finally arose from his prone position, he recognized the only chance he’d have.

            Nick had told him once that his step-mother had turned the entire perimeter of their backyard into some kind of multi-petaled jungle. He said he used to play in it with his dog when he was a kid and that she’d tended it and slowly grew it until he’d left. He had wondered if she still worked on it.

            Narrowing down his search hadn’t been that hard. After people began to move back to the newly reconstructed cities, towns, and suburbs, the government catalogued them all. And as soon as the internet went back up anyone could search for settled family members or friends.

            Of course the person being searched for had to have actually moved into a house or apartment. People like Nick, a traveler, an ex-con, a conman, were impossible to track, even at a time when they were unimportant to people who might’ve cared in the past.

            Nick, Ellis figured, wasn’t sure how else to live. Giving up his name and freedom had never been an option. Giving them up—he’d never had a reason.

            But while his old lover couldn’t be found Ellis had three pieces of vital information: his true last name, his parents’ first names, and their hometown.

            And there was only one Jeff and Linda posted. Their phone number lay beneath their names.

            And so, staring at the computer screen, Ellis pressed the numbers in succession until the familiar burr of the ringing began. It rang twice before someone picked up.

            Someone with a soft and happy, but aged, feminine voice. Nick’s step-mother.

            “Hello?”

            This time Ellis found his voice, just not his words. “Hi, I—um…”

            And Linda waited only a beat and when she spoke again her voice had soured. “Look, if you’re some telemarketer I’m not interested. I don’t know your area code so you have ten seconds to wow me.”

            Taken aback, the hick really couldn’t think of any delicate sentences he could say in under ten seconds that would explain his search. “I’m…I was juss wonderin’ if Nick was there.” Being blunt was something he could handle, however.

            “Nick?” There was a shuffling of paper over the line and Ellis hoped that he hadn’t disturbed anything important. “If you want I can give you his cell number.”

            “Um, no thanks. I actually have it already, it’s juss--…” Ellis looked at his reflection in the computer screen. “…I was hopin’ he was _there_.”

            Linda was a silent only a moment, and then she dropped the sheets from before into silence. “…Is this Ellis?”

            The mechanic watched his reflection’s eyebrows arch high, surprised, and then down, pleased. “Yes, ma’am.”

            “The Ellis with the hat?”

            He was the only Ellis Nick had knew. Hell, he was the only friend Nick had had. But he didn’t say either aloud in fear of risking her temperament. He had always assumed the gambler had been more like his father, but now, with the woman’s first outburst, he had to wonder. “Yes, ma’am.”

            Her voice turned dainty then, jovial even. “I’m sorry, Ellis. My name’s Linda, I’m Nick’s mother.” Step-mother by technicality, true mother by life.

            “Yes, ma’am, I know. I’m sorry-ta be botherin’ y’all.”

            “A break from work isn’t a bother, trust me.” She laughed a little at herself. “Nick’s not here right now. Do you want me to tell him you called?”

            “No. Um, does that mean he’ll be back sometime soon?”

            “I’m not really sure,” Linda said. “He goes into the city on the weeknights and gets a hotel room. He comes and mooches off us during the week.”

            Nick was in Chicago. He was in Chicago, the city, on the weekends and then in her suburbs during the work week. Ellis knew now. But how much longer would he know?

            “Do you know if he’s plannin’ on leavin’ anytime soon?”

            “He bought a plane ticket,” she replied immediately. “When I asked him where he was going he told me ‘don’t worry about it.’ But what should I have expected from Nick, right?”

            “Right,” Ellis agreed, trying to give her a laugh that his dry throat wouldn’t allow.

            Linda waited. “…You still there, Ellis?”

            “Yes, ma’am.”

            “…He’s leaving in two weeks. You can get here before then, can’t you?”

            “Ma’am?”

            “Honey, anybody who can get Nick to ride a smelly horse gets my vote. Do you need our address?” Nick hadn’t deleted the pictures from his laptop. He’d even let them be seen. Ellis had been so sure his name hadn’t been shared with the conman’s parents, let alone pictures.

            “Yes. Yes, please.” He searched for a nearby pen and then scrawled the street-combo on a ripped piece of notebook paper next to the keyboard. “I… I think Ikin get there Monday…” He drew a breath. “…Thank you so much. I really appreciate this, ma’am.”

            “You can call me Linda.”

            He beamed. “Linda. Great. I guess I’ll be there Monday. I’ll getta introduced myself properly.”

            “Sounds good,” she laughed. “Glad you called, Ellis.”

            “Me too.”

 

             Ellis began packing on Friday. He had already filled both his travel bag and suitcase to the brim, so his toiletries had been shoved into an old backpack.

            Just as he finished Bull rushed in, panting breath loud and smell strong, gained from whatever forays he’d been having in the backyard. Ellis turned to swat him out, wondering how the canine had managed to push the door open without him hearing in the first place.

            His mother stood, filtering through the mail in his doorway. “Did you tell Dave yet?”

            “Gotta work tomorrow; figured I’d tell ‘im then.” He sat down at his desk and took Bull’s head in his hands, his fingers giving extra attention behind the pointed ears.

            Annalynne’s hands stopped. “How long are you staying for?”

            “Dunno. Guess as long as it takes?”

            “Don’tchyou think you should’ve called Nick and told him?”

            “No,” Ellis said. “It’s probably best I get there without him knowin’.”

            “I bet he’ll love that,” his mother responded. She sat down on his bed, setting the pile of letters beside her. And her son got up to sit on the other side of her. “I just don’t wantchyou to get there and have everything blow up in your face.”

            “Can’t hurt much more-ta try,” he replied, smiling for the both of them.

            “Nick left, Ellis. He left you without a note, without explaining.” Annalynne drew in a breath and clasped her fingers together. “And you’re going after him?”

            Ellis looked down to Bull, past the dog to the floor, and then even further past the wood. There was no explaining to her. There was no explaining Nick just like there was no explaining himself.

            Nick was a horrible person to everyone else. And sometimes Ellis felt like he was the only person alive who had ever seen past it. But he was happy to be the one had, that one and only person.

           

            And yeah, he saw what everyone else saw. He felt what they all felt, ten times worse than they felt. But he’d always thought that the times when Nick had smiled, had smiled so hard all the lines of his face had grinned, were worth the times when they frowned. And over those years the smiles had become more frequent until finally Ellis felt like their relationship had hit normalcy.

            Until finally he’d felt like they had a chance. And neither of them had ever felt like that before, he was sure of that.

            And so he held onto that. That Nick was afraid and unsure because everything he’d ever let himself feel in the past had burned him. And Ellis, simply, wanted to be the one to break the pattern. Because the morning he’d woken alone had been the only time the hick had been burned, and if he had gone that long without such pain, especially with the conman, they could do it again.

            And all the good times they’d have would be enough to get them through the next insecurity.

            And it all made perfect sense.

            “You wouldn’ta gone after dad?”

            She watched him for several moments and then shook her head. “No. Not after the way he hurt us.”

            Ellis couldn’t blame her but he wouldn’t follow her example. Because even though he was sure he felt the same hurt she had felt, he wasn’t ready to just let go. “Mom, I survived the zombie apocalypse with a baseball bat an’ a sniper rifle… Ikin take a couple knocks.”

            “How many more knocks do you need before you come to your senses?” Annalynne asked, a laugh on her wet voice.

            “…One more, I reckon.”

 

            That knock came the next morning. Ellis had barely entered the door from his run when his mother, still in her pajamas because she always had the weekends off, shuffled towards him, coffee in one hand, the phone in the other.

            “Who is it?” the hick asked, using the sleeve of his t-shirt to wipe off his forehead.

            “Linda.”

            He took it immediately and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

            “Ellis? I’m sorry if I woke up your whole house.”

            “Naw,” Ellis said. “My mom was probably already awake.” He shook his head even though the other mother across the line couldn’t see. “An’ I was already out runnin’. Goin’ta work in a few…” Realizing he was beginning a rant, realizing he was stopping her from talking, realizing that she was calling on Saturday, mere days before he was going to drive up to meet her, he stopped. “…Linda?”

            “…I’m so sorry, Ellis.”

            He couldn’t say he was surprised, even though his shoulders dropped as quickly as his hope.

            “He changed his flight and left this morning. I don’t know where he went, I can… I can try and call him and find out whenever he lands but I don’t know how long he’ll be staying there.”

            Ellis dropped his head to his feet and nodded at his sneakers which were becoming increasingly blurry. “I…I dunno. I gotta go-ta work…”

            He ended the call. And then proceeded to throw it as hard as he could into the fireplace where it all but shattered and fell down, among the ashes.

 

            At work, only a few hours later, after driving himself to work in his mother’s car (since she had mentioned getting her oil changed), Ellis had already managed to cut himself four times, dropped a tool on his foot twice, and made three engine mistakes. Luckily he’d caught himself before ever venturing out to find the waiting customer.

            When he’d finished with his fifth, and thankfully problem-free, job he walked through the garage and to the front, to the shop where Dave, as always, was working one of the books. The late afternoon sun forced shadows from the street outside to take refuge on the wall behind him.

            Ellis plopped down in one of the chairs strewn about for customers and rolled his neck back so he could stare up at the dim, bug-filled lights above him. The screech of the legs against the tile floor roused Dave’s attention.

            “You okay?”

            “I guess. Fixed everythin’… There ain’t nobody else?”

            “Not right now,” Dave said. He closed the books and disappeared behind the counter for a second before standing up to his full height. He had always been one of the tallest people Ellis had ever met. “Thinking ‘bout closing her up for the rest of the day.”

            Ellis shrugged because he didn’t care. He could keep on working or he could go home. There’d be no difference for him. Keeping his hands busy wasn’t going to work today, just like nothing had worked that morning almost a month and a half ago.

            His friend regarded him a moment. “Somethin’ wrong?”

            “Juss tired,” Ellis lied, getting to his feet. He watched Dave walk to the front, flip their ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’, and lock the door. And then he followed him back into the garage.

            The older southerner stopped just outside the large door and looked back at Ellis who had stopped. “…We’re going out tonight. Me, Keith, Isabelle, some of her friends…There’s always an extra girl.” He laughed. “How about coming?”

            Ellis lowered his head, hid behind the bill of his hat, and shook his head. “Promised mom I’d work on her car.”

            “…Afterwards?”

            He shook his head again. Keith wouldn’t talk to him and best case scenario he’d mention the word fag a few times to the girls anyway. Drinking wouldn’t be as fun as it could be, either, considering he had nothing to say. Considering he’d probably get drunk and wake up feeling even worse. Though what was worse than the deflated, hopelessness he was already feeling he wasn’t sure.

            Those dark eyes hadn’t moved when he finally decided to lift his head back up. “…It’ll be two months soon?”

            No, it would be two days soon. He’d restarted the timer. “It ain’t… It ain’t that I don’t wanna go or that I don’t like girls or nothin’… An’ I appreciate bein’ asked an’ all…” He looked to the shelves near his side.

            “…That’s okay,” Dave said, picking up his mechanic’s awkwardness, picking up the need to shove the offer aside. “I’ll call your house if we’re doing anything tomorrow.” He fished into his pocket for the keys to the garage. When he found them he tossed them at Ellis who caught them and tucked them into his own pocket.

            And when Dave had pulled away and Ellis had pulled his mother’s car into the garage, jacked it up, and gotten the tools he’d need out, he crossed the garage to the large stereo in on the dingy desk nearby (that they only used it for that reason) and turned the volume up as loud as he could without bothering his neighbors or his own eardrums.

            He settled down atop the rolling board he’d pulled out, pushed himself under the car, and got to work almost perfectly in time with _Midnight Ride_.

            His movements were monotonous and familiar, overused and worn, and when he reached for the tub so he could let the old oil drain he didn’t bother to watch it fill.

            Nor had he remembered to put gloves on. Not that it mattered as his hands and clothes had already been stained and would likely still be the next morning. And a few minutes later, as Ellis removed the old filter from the car, the mess was only made worse, onto his chest, arms, and hands.

            When he managed to get the new oil filter on without spilling a drop, however, he felt a little better. Like working on cars was supposed to make him feel.

            He let his hands drop down from his work, forearms against the cold, dirtied concrete of the garage. He stared up at the twisting gray parts above him, the slight black smudge some of them possessed, and then the area he had just fixed. And he was content to just lie there and stare and listen to his favorite band.

            Well he would’ve until he realized his music had stopped.

            Annoyed, and a little ashamed since a simple job like that had never taken him so long he’d gone through so many Midnight Riders’ songs, Ellis reached down and pulled himself out, fingers tight against the lip-like protrusion that was the bottom of the car’s door.

            As soon as his head was clear he sat up and turned towards the desk.

            To where Nick was standing, finger on the stereo and green eyes on the hick.

            The flight had been to Savannah. Had it always been?

            When the conman lifted his hand away so that he could tuck it into his pocket Ellis realized he’d been staring too long. He stood carefully and tucked the rolling board back with the sole of his foot.

            When he looked back up Nick was still staring, still scrutinizing. His jaw was lined in stubble, hair slightly unkempt, and there were darker circles under his eyes then Ellis could remember.

            “You look like shit,” Ellis said, finally.

            And Nick almost grinned. “You’re one to talk.”

            The hick wasn’t sure who stepped first, but the two men crossed the ground and empty air in between them to throw their arms about the other.

            Ellis dipped his head down so that he could press his face into the curve of Nick’s shoulder, ignoring the slight pop of his hat as the brim clicked against the floor. He braided his arms around the older man’s waist, gripping his fingers into the material of his dress shirt, twisting it just slightly, just enough for it to draw away from the neck next to his face. So Ellis drew in a deep breath, drawing in the scent of strong cologne.

            And Nick held him close by the shoulders, one of his hands moving carefully up into the curls at the back of Ellis’ head.

            When they drew back Nick didn’t let his hands go far.

            Ellis, however, dropped his hands down so he could see them. “Shit.”

            “What?”

            He held up the still-mostly-black appendages. “Thinkin’ I ruined yer shirt.”

            Nick frowned but it smoothed away. “…It’s fine.”

            “Glad-ta hear that,” Ellis replied before he raised his right hand and smeared it down the ex-con’s cheek, heavy and rough, dragging the skin along in its passage.

            “What the fu---?!”

            “’Cause ya didn’t leave a note,” the mechanic explained. And then he repeated the motion with the oil from his left hand onto the corresponding, clean cheek. “An’ leavin’ at all.”

            “Hey, hey!” Nick swatted him away and stepped back, reaching his hands up, effectively spreading the grease to his fingertips as well. “I came back, didn’t I?”

            “After two months!” Ellis smoothed his hands down the legs of his jumpsuit.

            “Yeah, well, for me that’s like…” The northerner sighed and attempted to clean his face with the back of his hands.

            “Ya gonna say yer sorry or what?”

            “…You already put that nasty shit on my face, that’s not enough?”

            “I coulda punchedchjya.”

            “So long as you cleaned your hands first.”

 

            When Ellis came down from his shower he found Nick waiting for him at the kitchen table, face red and almost raw from how hard he must’ve scrubbed to get the dirt, oil, and grease from his face. Bull was at his side, staring up at the northerner, waiting patiently to have his ears scratched.

            “Ya want somethin’ta drink?”

            Nick looked back at him. “Whatever you’re having’s fine.”

            Ellis crossed to the fridge and opened it, reaching in for the beers he had begun placing there so he wouldn’t have to go down into the basement anymore. With them in hand he headed to the hallway. “Wekin go sit on the porch, just in case grandpa feels like comin’ upstairs fer some reason.”

            The gambler followed him out onto the porch and, after Bull patted out, closed the door behind him. He joined Ellis on the porch swing and took his bottle.

            “He still not talking to you?”

            “We ain’t talkin’ta each other.”

            “You got your job back, though. What about the retards?”

            Ellis smiled against the mouth of his bottle. “Dave’s helpin’ me out.”

            “But not Keith?”

            Shaking his head, the younger survivor took a long, gulping sip of his drink and then leaned back, slouching in his seat.

            Nick, on the other hand, leaned forward, far forward so that Ellis could only make out half the profile of his face. Both sets of fingers played with the bottle between them. “Figured they’d be fine when I was gone.”

            “Ain’t gonna say they weren’t happy,” Ellis said. “But nothin’ really changed… An’ I was sick of bein’ called a fag.”

            His lover’s shoulder’s bounced with his chuckle.

            “I was gonna drive up-ta Chicago,” he announced after a moment. “I called yer mom.”

            “Bet that was a great phone call.”

            “She knew who I was.”

            “And?”

            “You showed her them pictures?”

            Nick shrugged and sat up and back, so he could look straight down into his junior’s face. “She’s nosy, don’t think I offered or anything.”

            “Uh huh.” Ellis smiled at him. “Even the horse pictures?”

            “You don’t shut up I’m gonna fly back there and show her some others.”

            “You still have those?!”

            “You thought I’d delete them?”

            Ellis slouched lower, choosing to change the direction of their conversation before he began to regret the current stream. “Where’s my jag?”

            “At my parent’s house.”

            The mechanic finished his drink in another gulp and set his empty bottle down, to the side, and moved closer. “Why’djya come back?”         

            “To get you.” At Ellis’ stun silence he continued. “Where’s your mom?”

            “Somewhere with my truck.”

            “…You know how long?”

 

            Ellis walked backwards up the stairs, hands on the banisters parallel to his sides. Nick followed, predatory and slow.

            “How come every time I take-a shower you wanna go an’ ruin it?”

            “Overalls, we both know you took that shower for me anyway. I’m just putting your cleanliness to good use.”

            Grinning, and temporarily forgetting where he was, the hick tripped backwards, over the second-to-top step, which was just high enough to make it impossible to catch himself in time. Instead he plopped backwards and sat, staring dumbly at the conman as he approached.

            “Supposed-ta keep bein’ mad atchya.”

            Nick put his foot onto the step below the hick’s seat and leaned his weight forward. And Ellis lifted his face so that he could let his renewed lover claim his mouth.

            They stood together, lips hesitant to part. Their hands moved out to touch the other, Ellis tracing the muscle and curves of his elder’s arms while Nick opted to hold him by the waist, effectively steering them both towards his bedroom door.

            Nick led the way inside and Ellis reached back blindly to close the door, but there was a sudden halt. He glanced back, to where Bull’s was blocking the entrance, his mouth open and tongue hanging, giving him a demented smile.

            “Bull, get!” Ellis reached down, giving the dog a push just below the collar. Bull gave a slurp of his tongue, just missing his master’s chin. And then the door closed in his face, centimeters from his nose.

            The redneck made sure the knob clicked locked before turning back to Nick who had crossed to the window. He rested with forearm against the wall so he could stare out.

            Ellis didn’t move towards him, not yet. Two months and Nick hadn’t changed, not that much anyway. There were all the lines he knew, none he didn’t. But his eyes were darker, as if he’d chosen to skip a couple nights’ sleep.

            Doing what with who wasn’t something he wanted to wonder about anymore. It wasn’t something he was going to be quiet about. It wasn’t something he was going to let Nick shrug aside.

            “Where were ya, Nick?”

            “You know where I was.”

            “I mean… that night I called. I heard music an’ people.”

            “Casino boat.” He turned, pressing his back up against the white of the wall, broadening his shoulders.

            “…Didjya sleep with anyone? Not juss that night, all this time.”

            Nick’s eyebrows moved high on his forehead, creasing the skin there. He pushed himself straight and walks towards Ellis. “No. You tell anybody that and I’ll make it so you can’t walk for a week.”

            “How come?” Ellis caught the other man’s wrists as his hands smoothed back over his flanks again and squeezed there gently.

            “I was busy. Now can we please do something about our blue balls?”

            “Who says I got ‘em, too?” Although he couldn’t remember masturbating, let alone being in a situation that could’ve resulted in sex.

            “You,” Nick said, “when you called me.” He raised his hands up, placing the pads of his fingers against his lover’s neck and then up, to sweep that dirtied-hat to the floor.

            And Ellis raised his face, kissing Nick first, wet and slow. He lingered his bottom lip against the crevice between the gambler’s, tempting him with the smallest of drags. Because he knew Nick liked it.

            And he wanted him to know what they’d been missing for two months.

            The couple moved back towards the bed, where Ellis sat, chin up high to catch his lover’s mouth as he kneeled down. He spread his knees immediately, allowing the broad torso beneath him to slip between them, allowing Nick’s stomach to press against the crotch of his pants.

            His heavy hands dropped to the hick’s thighs, massaging upwards in circles and grips, outer to inner, so close and then far. And then he swept them back, past the sides of his hips, to the top of his lover’s ass.

            Ellis traded his pounds to his arms so he could lift his hips up. Nick took advantage of the movement to slide the jeans and boxers he’d adorned down, lifting the hick’s ankles high so he could get them off without sacrificing his position. He tossed them away, soundly against the closet door, and put the toned legs back down, his hands back at work.

            He was already hard and pounding against the curve of his own stomach. He hoped Nick had gotten there just as quickly if not quicker.

            Nick moved up towards him, pressing them close in another kiss. His lover shifted forward, letting the weight of his body rely back on his hips, the curve of his ass molding to the curve of the ex-con’s hands.

            He brought his own touch up to cushion the sides of Nick’s face, smoothing his thumbs against his temples and back, to where the hair of his sideburns began. He smoothed the tips of his fingers up now, wanting to feel the beginnings of the older man’s hairline juxtaposed against the warm, smooth skin before it.

            A firm tongue pressed against his lips, circled and outlined them, before he allowed it into his mouth. He welcomed it with his own in sweeping, moist circles, breathing purposely into the kiss. They broke apart to suck in their own air, not fair, both giving audible, needy grunts underneath.

            “I didn’t intend to come here and have sex so soon,” Nick’s voice puffed out against Ellis’ mouth and chin. “I was going to wait or whatever.”

            “Don’t care,” Ellis whispered in reply, using their brief respite to draw his t-shirt up and off.

            There were a lot of things about their relationship that needed to change, that were already changing, that had changed: sex had never and would never be one of them.

            Nick straightened out his back and withdrew his hands when the hick’s fingers dropped low, slipping each of the buttons of his shirt through their tiny holes, rapid and accustomed. And then he pushed his hands underneath, opting to drag his nails instead of skin this time so that he could get the fabric to bunch after the conman’s shoulders where after it’d be shrugged off.

            The older survivor remembered the motion, remembered how he enjoyed being undressed, and the nicely-stained dress shirt, soon to be garbage, joined Ellis’ clothes near the closet.

            And then Ellis yanked him back, arms moving about the strong shoulders, fingers at the gelled points of his hair, and chest puffed up so that every line molded to the hair and muscles possessed by his counterpart.

            Nick’s hands had moved to his hips, thumbs to the more-prominent-than-before bones, fingers curling the soft skin there into small bulbs of flesh, erotic and embarrassing. And then he drew them forward to where they connected with the top of Nick’s stomach, his erection caught between the inward curve of the gambler’s ribcage.

            And as lips and kisses and bites descended upon his neck Ellis shifted his hips back and forth, side to side, the tiniest of movements to give himself relief he hadn’t realized he needed. But now that there was pressure, now that he had that teasing, self-inflicted movement, he realized that if he wasn’t as hard as he’d ever been, he’d be there very soon.

            And he didn’t know how long he could last. More than anything he wanted to last, he wanted to remind Nick of their times together like Denver and Vegas, times when he’d let his lover have total control.

            Ellis moved when the northerner pushed on his shoulders, an urge for him to move backwards onto the bed, to move to lay his head back against the pillow at the head. Nick stood as the redneck repositioned himself, flicking the buckle of his belt open and off, the entirety of the leather loop swooping from around his waist and onto the floor before his pants and boxers joined them. He stepped out of them, and his socks, and clambered onto the bed.

            And Nick’s cock was just as hard and pulsing and red as his own.

            He slipped between the mechanic’s legs, the slight hair of his chest slipping and tickling just enough to make the thighs tighten and their owner to grin. Nick grinned back and dipped his head down, giving the collarbone beneath him one, thick-tongued lick on each side, before kissing the dip in between.

            Touching the tip of his nose to the lavished area, he moved downwards, his hands up and tracing a path for his mouth to follow, mainly teeth and spit. He trailed over each pectoral, each nipple, each rib, and then down the line in the middle of Ellis’s stomach to his navel.

            And when the hick felt hot, ringed fingers enclose the upper part of his dick, just beneath the head, he bucked his hips up and dropped his back down.

            Nick allowed him to catch his breath, which he did almost in a panic, his chest working hard to give his body a moment of reprieve. And when he calmed and turned his blue eyes down at the man below him, he had no choice but to clench again, grip his sheets hard, and bite his lip so he wouldn’t cum in his lover’s mouth.

            “Nick, Nick,” he panted, not caring if it came out as a beg or scream. The tremble of his stomach couldn’t contain the awaiting build-up. “Don’t, please. Don’t.”

            His cock was released with a slight pop and then his legs were spread wider again. Nick moved between them, using his body weight to force an all-too-needed pressure onto the hardness.

            Ellis sighed thankfully against his lover’s mouth when it was lowered to his again.

            He leaned back as his lover reached out to the side, to the dresser we their lube still waited, probably covered in a thin layer of dust. Even so, Nick managed to apply a liberal amount to his hand and fingers, reaching down to press the latter against Ellis’ opening.

            The redneck chewed on the corner of his lip, the space between his brows crinkled so close he could see it spread down the bridge of his nose. Because Nick’s index finger was barely in, and then only the very tip of his middle joined.

            And it wasn’t that it hurt, it was that it was tight and unfamiliar, even in the small space of two months. It was that he wasn’t sure, with Nick breathing as hard as he was, face red as it was, aroused as he was, that he’d even get past the probing.

            Finally, when the blunt knuckle of the second pushing finger slipped in, Nick leaned forward, kissing Ellis’ chin because the boy’s teeth were already working the swollen red of his own lip.

            “Okay?”

            Ellis nodded three times, quickly and then released his lip so that Nick could press his own against it. He leaned back when it ended and watched his lover’s hands disappear behind the line of his inner thighs and presentation of his hips. And then his older lover’s right hand came back to work their lubrication onto the length of his barely-moveable cock.

            And then he pressed the blunt tip against the puckered, pink portal before him, smoothing the skin there with the moist material before he pushed himself in.

            Well, the head at least. The remainder of his length lay, waiting, pulsing against the delicate, taught, and silky skin there so hard it was like his lover was thrusting after all.

            Above him Nick mirrored the excitement coursing through his erection. His chest was heaving just like the blood in his cock. Ellis could only remember a few, rare, sober instances where he had ever seen the conman with such a blatant, true expression on his face.

            And not all of them had been during sex.

            But to have gotten it again, after having spent less than a day together after their ‘break-up’, was worth being able to walk in the morning or ever cumming again for that matter.

            And then Nick thrust in as much as he could based on their hunched position; because neither had wanted to give up the proximity of their faces.

            And it was that combination, the sudden movement, the red, evident desire so openly readable on the card shark’s face, and the fact that Nick was there, on his own decision that forced the hick’s back into an arch, his thighs into tenseness, and his orgasm into blinding, blurred colors behind his eyelids.

            When he reached down Nick’s hand had already moved to milk him, jerking and steady, just below the purple head of the younger lover’s dick. And inside him, the thick, long prick circled and touched and moved.

            Emptying into a pool on his stomach, the liquid, unrelenting pleasure finally subsided long enough to allow Ellis to replace his thrown arms back around Nick’s body and lift his face close. “Sorry. Nick. M’sorry.”

            A stubbled cheek skimmed against his own and then there was a hum against his lips. Nick’s hand moved back across to grip the boy’s hip, lining his thumb along the natural length of Ellis’ thigh to goad it around him.

            Because the cock within him was still exceedingly hard.

            “You okay?” Nick whispered and then planted a kiss where his breath had dusted. “Want to stop?”

            “No.” Ellis returned the kiss and those following as best he could. “No, I’m okay.” He linked his ankles together gently, not minding the fuller shift that accompanied it.

            “Ellis.” His lover didn’t move, because three years had taught him far too much about the southern body’s response to sex. Ellis could cum numerous times, and Nick was far from hesitant about it most the time, but when his lover went too long, when he was too excited, when he was drunk, cumming a second time was amazing, but the crescendo towards it had only ever been a mix of pain and warped pleasure.

            So Ellis purposely didn’t reply. He just lifted his hips.

            And Nick rocked inside of him gently, rolled there and reclaimed there, but didn’t touch the still-hard dick beneath him.

            The mechanic made sure to keep his eyes open, no matter how overwhelming the constant brush of nerves within him was. No matter how overly-sensitive he was.

            Green stared right back, pure and encompassing, as always.

            Ellis slid his hands up, from where they had rested along the pane’s of the older man’s back, to cup the five o’clock shadow darkening his lover’s face. He drew him down just far enough for their lips to touch, almost tenderly.

            Both men breathed into it, their closeness allowing their hands to search the other’s body: the gambler’s neck and chest and the hick’s stomach and thighs, which were readily and easily spread to their limit.

            “Nick,” his accent managed to abide long enough for him to draw the name out in a low and leisurely voice. “Youkin touch me now.”

            “You want me to?” Nick asked, a smirk intended to be tacked onto the end, but he was far too busy attempting to reign in his thrilled and lustful bend to his lips.

            “You want to,” he countered, arms resuming their circular grasp to keep the furred man close.

            Nick didn’t argue the point. His hand dropped down, his legs folded in half, forcing his lover’s hips higher, and then his lips hovered back over the plump pair Ellis knew he adored. So he opened them, taking one of Nick’s in between his them, pulling the bottom over the thin one and then down again, against the pointed, rugged hairs on his jaws.

            And Nick managed three thrusts before his hips resorted back into their rolling motion, until his cock was spurting his seed into every niche, until he was shuddering Ellis’ name.

            Ellis came between them, this orgasm more numbing and draining than the first, so much so that it was only when the last spurt dribbled just below his navel, he realized he had been gasping, high-pitched and pleading.

            They waited there a few moments, the older man’s lightly haired thighs holding the loose and relaxed weight of his pleasured body. And then very carefully he slipped his softened cock from the hick’s very vulnerable entrance, followed by a small stream of his seed. But by that time Nick was already turning over onto his back, between Ellis and the wall, eyes closed and arms limp at his side.

            Ellis waited a few loud heartbeats before turning over to slip in front of the arm closest to him, preferring to use the ex-con’s chest rather than attempt to share the pillow. He closed his eyes when sated arms moved about him and a lazy hand traced at the bulge of his adam’s apple.

            “…How long are we stayin’ here?” he asked then, wanting to say something so Nick could feel the vibration of his voice on his fingertips.

            “We’ll leave Monday.”

            The mechanic tilted his face upwards. “Figured you’d wanna leave tomorrow.”     

            “Yeah, well, you said you’d be in Chicago by then so this’ll get us in on Tuesday. Besides, it’ll take that long to apologize to Annalynne.”

            “Why?” Ellis pressed his hands against the spot just above Nick’s nipple, smoothing the curls there. “If I forgave ya she’s gonna, too.”

            “I don’t think it’s going to take a long time,” Nick informed him. “I came by here first today. Figured you were here or at the garage but nobody answered the door. So I walked around to the back to where she was working in the garden, right?”

            “So?”

            “She threw a fucking rock at my head, Ellis.”

            The bed bounced with the redneck’s laughter. “You gotta have some Jedi reflexes then, man! She used-ta play sports!”

            “It’s not funny, dumbshit. That rock was the size of my goddamn fist.”

            Ellis continued to smile. “She’ll forgive ya tonight when she comes home.”

            “I’m sure; there’s not much bullshit that gets by your mom, kid.”

            “It ain’t bullshit.”

            “No,” Nick agreed. “But what do you want me to explain?”

            “Nothin’, s’long as y’explain-ta me.” He waited a moment and then perked himself up on his elbow, keeping his arm along his lover’s chest, as if keeping him in place. “…What were ya doin’ these months?”

            “Winning money, drinking, screwing people over,” Nick answered immediately. “Everything I did before. And then you called.”

            “Then why didn’tchya come sooner?”

            “I already told you I was busy.”

            “Nick.”

            “I was helping my parents out and being a decent son for once, okay?” The gambler sighed. “Telling you everything—that gonna be some kind of common occurrence now?”

            “Yeah.”

 

            Later that night, luckily, both men had been right—the time it took Ellis’ mother to forgive the conman’s disappearance hadn’t taken long, and even luckier she hadn’t had anything nearby she could afford to chuck at the slicked-haired head.

            And, as it was often the case with mothers, as soon as Annalynne saw how bright her son’s eyes were, how he hovered around Nick just as he used to, how he continually managed to brush their fingers, she had a complete emotion reversal, resulting in the gambler crushed down into her chest.

            The next day the hick’s mother, after helping Ellis pack up the rest of his needed items in one of their extra suitcases from the basement, had spent the day cooking large meals, beginning large conversations, and asking noisy questions.

            And the next morning, after another large, early meal, the boys prepared Ellis’ truck to set out on yet another road trip. Nick, who had offered to drive, waited patiently beside the truck as Annalynne clung to her son, ordering quiet common senses and telling him to keep better care of himself so he didn’t need to stop and puke this time.

            When she was finished she walked to Nick and enveloped him in a hug as well, telling him to drive carefully, and then when Ellis preoccupied himself with the last of his bags, pulled the conman close by his collar: “You leave him again and I’ll make sure to aim for your kidneys next time.”

            Ellis grinned to himself and after circling around to give her a final kiss, got into his truck and buckled in, turning his head to watch his mother’s fading figure out the window.

            He waved until she was completely out of view.

 

            Twelve hours later they stopped. Nick ordered a room with one, king-sized bed on which they ate their room service and then retired together. And when they awoke together, close and holding, Ellis decided to pretend he was asleep just a little bit longer.

            Their extended rest got them to their destination later than they had expected, past the time for them to catch Nick’s parents eating dinner.

            And Ellis was fairly sure that, although they were driving through a nice subdivision, with kids playing and families walking, the apartment complex they pulled up to was not the home of Jeff and Linda.

            Nick parked and shut off the engine and when he climbed out Ellis followed.

            “What’re we doin’? Yer mom ain’t gonna be mad, is she?”

            “Probably,” his lover replied, walking up to the front doors of the building, to where a woman of thirty was walking out. He caught the door just as it slipped from her fingers and held it open for the hick who walked in, hand up to fix his hat.

            “What’re we doin’?” Ellis asked as they approached the elevator. He followed Nick into the larger-than-expected box, nicer than it looked from the outside.

            “I have some shit stashed here,” Nick said. He pressed the button to the highest floor and crossed his arms over his chest to watch the lights switch between the numbers. So maybe Nick did have friends other than the mechanic—friends who were just as rich as he was considering they owned the top floor to a nice building like this.

            He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to meet this friend or not, however. At least, not right now, not when he’d rather spend time meeting Nick’s parents, making things final and ensured.

            But when they stepped into the hall, straight towards the white, beautifully designed door, and Nick pulled out a new, silver key that fit perfectly and turned perfectly in the locks, any thought about friends or parents dissolved.

            Because when Nick opened the door it was far too apparent that there was nobody home. That the owner hadn’t been home in a couple days. That he’d come back, with one other, to make sure the large, fancy space didn’t go unappreciated.

            The door closed behind him.

            “…My bedroom’s down the hall,” Nick said, softly. “You can put your stuff in the room next to it, that closet’s empty. Figured I’d send for your stuff and give it to you to make ugly.”

            “Ikin sleep witchyou, though?”

            “I’m sure I don’t have a choice,” his lover replied, circling around to stand in front of the younger man who promptly jumped against him, arms tight and face beaming.

            Because they weren’t going to travel. Because he was going to meet Nick’s parents. Because they had settled.

            “…Wekin get a dog, too, right?”


End file.
